It's All For You
by MetamorphmagusLupin
Summary: AU. As Zoe enters into her first year, new challenges arise for her and Severus while a Darkness, thought gone with the Dark Lord, begins to stir again. The full-length continuation of my Severus and Zoe series. I only own Zoe, JKR is the real genius.
1. Reinforcements: Part I

**_I know it hasn't been a few weeks, per se, but I've been writing pretty steadily over the last two weeks that I felt like I was comfortable enough to begin posting the long-awaited (by some) full-length story I have been promising. I'm not going to lie, I have no set posting schedule and this story is not complete yet, so updates may be erratic. However, I will promise you right now that I WILL FINISH THIS STORY. Not just because I know there are people out there that are excited about it, but also because I could never live with myself if I didn't. It's going to be a long, but exciting ride for Severus and Zoe, so hang on._**

**_Enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

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><p><strong>Reinforcements: Part I<strong>

The owl had arrived nearly a week before on a dreary day in late July and the girl simply had not stopped talking about anything else. The day, of course, had been inevitable. However, at just ten years old, Zoe had received her Hogwarts letter earlier than Severus had expected. It was true that her eleventh birthday fell on the exact day in which she would board the Express, but he had assumed the school governors would postpone her education for another year as was customary for children with birthdays in September.

_Severus had strolled fully dressed into his study uncharacteristically early that stormy Tuesday in August to find Zoe already sitting in the lush, leather chair behind his large, dark-stained desk. She was still wearing her dressing gown over her long, white nightgown and her wavy, brown hair fell loosely and lank around her shoulders. She had her legs folded beneath her and she was leaning forward in order to see the type at the top of the page of the overly large tome before her. She looked up the moment he entered the room merely to acknowledge his presence but had immediately gone back to her reading._

"_You're awake early," he had said as he walked around to peer over her shoulder at the book laid out upon the desk. It was an old Transfiguration text Severus had recalled buying in Hogsmeade in his sixth year at school._

"_I couldn't sleep anymore," Zoe responded, looking up at the rain-soaked window behind her. "The thunder," she elaborated._

_Severus nodded once, making his way around the desk to sit in one of the leather chairs at the front. _

"_Ollie."_

_Almost instantly, the tiny house elf appeared with a pop at his knee._

"_Is Mister Severus wanting his breakfast served in the study this morning?" Ollie asked._

"_Yes, please, Ollie. Zoe and I will both eat in here," Severus replied, noticing the grateful smile that stretched across his daughter's face at those words. "Just toast for me, and some coffee."_

"_Yes, Mister Severus. Will Miss Zoe be liking some eggs this morning or porridge?" the elf asked turning toward Zoe, though she could hardly see over the desk to the girl in the chair._

"_Eggs please, Ollie, and toast as well. Oh, and orange juice, not pumpkin juice."_

"_Ollie is pleased to serve orange juice instead of pumpkin juice."_

"_Thanks, Ollie," Zoe said, smiling and turning back to the book as Ollie Disapparated with a snap of her fingers._

_Severus looked up at his uncharacteristically studious daughter across the desk. Now that breakfast was squared away, they could have a nice chat before he would eventually need to send her out in order to get some work done._

"_Do you understand anything in that book?" Severus asked, truly curious. "It's a N.E.W.T.-level read."_

_Zoe furrowed her brow, but didn't answer right away. When she came to the end of the line, she looked up and smirked sheepishly._

"_Not really. But it's interesting…I think. Transfiguration is fascinating. I wish I could turn something into something else. Did you know that there are people who can turn themselves into animals? They're called Animagi and, well, I think that's brilliant!"_

_Severus nodded at Zoe's enthusiasm, but couldn't quite bring himself to smile._

"_Yes, I seem to recall learning something to that extent," Severus said sardonically. Seeing the confusion on Zoe's face, he quickly adjusted his tone. "Perhaps you should ask Minerva the next time you see her about her knowledge of Animagi."_

_Zoe raised one eyebrow in bewilderment and then her entire face lit up with unmistakable comprehension._

"_You mean…Minerva is a…"_

_Severus quirked a smile._

"_Wicked!" Zoe cried. "I never knew that! What does she turn into?"_

"_I will not tell you," he said mock-defensively._

"C_ome on, Papa! Why not?"_

"_Who am I to keep your godmother from relishing in your excitement at seeing her transform for the first time? The effect would be ruined considerably if you knew what to expect beforehand."_

"_It isn't anything scary, is it?" Zoe asked._

_Severus thought of the harmless, gray tabby cat with the square markings around its eyes he'd seen numerous times throughout the years and smirked._

"_Horrifying," he replied._

_Zoe giggled and went back to reading. At that moment, Ollie appeared on the desk holding a large tray full of the breakfast Severus and Zoe had requested._

"_Careful, Miss Zoe, the eggs are hot," Ollie warned as Zoe grabbed for the plate of scrambled eggs in the center of the tray._

"_I know. I'm not a baby," Zoe complained moodily._

_Severus cleared his throat and sternly eyed his daughter as he took a sip from his coffee cup. Zoe flushed as her eyes whipped up to meet his before focusing back on the elf in front of her._

"_Sorry, Ollie. I'll be careful, I promise. This looks great," she said and half-smiled at the house elf._

"_Miss Zoe is a good girl," Ollie replied as she snapped her fingers and disappeared._

_Zoe rolled her eyes and picked up her fork, digging it into the eggs._

"_Ollie has been with us since you were an infant, Zoe. She does a lot to keep us living comfortably and you will treat her with her due respect. You will not talk to her that way again," Severus scolded his daughter._

"_Yes, sir," Zoe mumbled, pushing the eggs around her plate in embarrassment, not looking at her father._

_Severus watched his daughter sulk and bit into a piece of toast. When a movement at the window caught his eye, he looked up to see a barn owl soaring through the storm toward the window behind where Zoe sat. _Finally_, _The Prophet_, Severus thought as he rose to let the bird in, digging a few knuts from his pocket as he strode around the desk. Zoe watched his progress, but continued to nibble on a piece of toast._

"_Anything for me?" she asked, watching her father dry the stack of letters and the rolled-up newspaper with his wand._

_Anytime there was post, she asked this because she knew it was unlikely that anything was for her and she knew that it irritated her father to have to answer her. He raised a reproving eyebrow at her as he paid the owl and closed the window. Zoe grinned before taking another bite out of her toast and turning back to her plate on the desk._

_Severus was surprised to see several pieces of mail accompanying the newspaper that morning. There were a few client correspondences rolled with the paper and the regular invitation to Malfoy Manor for brunch on Sunday as well as an envelope containing a statement of the most recent deposit into his Gringotts account from St. Mungo's, but near the bottom of the stack, a bit of green writing caught his eye. It was written on crisp, thick parchment and was sealed closed with the familiar crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…and it was not addressed to him._

_Severus could do nothing more than stare. Of course, this day was going to come. He knew it would come, but he wasn't prepared for it. He stared dumbly at the envelope then looked up at the child sitting in his chair eating scrambled eggs and he knew he couldn't send her to that school. It wasn't that he didn't want Zoe to have an education, but he was worried about the kind of education she would receive outside of her magical studies. He worried what she would learn from her peers about his sordid past and everything before and during the First and Second War. This was not good._

"_Papa? What is it?"_

_Damn. He hadn't done a very good job of masking his conflicting emotions and now he'd alarmed the girl. Before he could so much as reassure her, Zoe had hopped off her chair and approached him. She reached out to take the mail from him and, in doing so, knocked the damnable letter from his grasp. _

"_Oops," she said, crouching down to pick up the fallen envelopes._

_Severus watched as if in slow motion as a look of delight spread across his daughter's face upon reading and acknowledging the green, slanted writing of the largest envelope._

"_Papa! It's my letter! My Hogwarts letter! Look, it says right here: Miss Zoe Snape, The Attic Bedroom, 38 Spinner's End, Cokeworth, Lancashire," Zoe's voice trailed off as she soaked in every word._

_She seemed to stand there for the longest time not saying a word and Severus wondered what was going through her head. Suddenly, she looked up at him, an inquisitive frown furrowing her brow._

"_But I'm only ten," she stated, excited._

"_Indeed you are," Severus acknowledged, taking the remainder of the letters from his daughter and crossing to sit in the chair Zoe had vacated. He tossed them on the desk next to her half-eaten plate of eggs then propped his elbow onto the arm of the chair and rubbed his eyes. _

_Zoe, in the meantime, had ripped open the letter and was devouring its contents as she walked dazedly to the armchair across from her father and sat down. He watched her eyes rove over every word, her head nod up and down and her lips move silently over what Severus assumed was the list of books and supplies she would need for the upcoming term. With each item she read, her features lit up more and more as Severus's own thoughts became more and more apprehensive. What right did he have to feel so uneasy when he should be reveling in her excitement and happiness? Any normal father would do so. But Severus was not a normal father. He had a foul past and he held secrets from his daughter that, in a few short weeks, her peers would no doubt inundate her with the knowledge of._

"_Ooh, look at all these books!" Zoe suddenly squealed. Severus lifted his anxious, black eyes to meet his daughter's joyous, royal blue and nodded, dazedly._

"_I can't wait to get a wand! And new robes!"_

_Severus could no longer handle it. He needed some time to be alone and think about what he was going to do._

"_Are you finished with your breakfast?" he asked the excited ten-year-old across from him._

_Zoe waved her hand indifferently and nodded, still staring at the letter before her. Severus stood, walked around the desk and delicately, but firmly, took his daughter's arm to usher her from the room. Zoe barely seemed to notice she was being thrown out as she jabbered on._

"_Oh! I must write to Minerva! And Scorpius. He's going to be absolutely green with envy! Do you think I could get a familiar? And maybe some of that color-changing ink and…"_

"_Yes, yes," Severus nodded distractedly. "We can discuss it later; I really must be getting to work…"_

_And with that, he pushed his daughter out into the tiny corridor and closed the door behind her. Severus stood for several moments with his hand on the door, his head bowed in a combination of relief and defeat. What was he going to do? He couldn't refuse to send her to school; she needed an education to learn to control her skills. Merlin knew her magical abilities were out-of-control as it was and he knew Zoe wouldn't be able to stand being schooled at home with a private tutor any more than she cared for him as her primary means of education now—she was far too sociable and, though abnormally bright, she was not nearly as academically disciplined as Severus would have liked. No, he would need to send her somewhere._

_Resolved, Severus righted his posture, crossed back to his desk and took a quill, ink and parchment from the center drawer. As he scratched out the letter, he tried to ignore the notion nagging at the back of his mind that this was a rather feeble alternative to his problem and he highly doubted it would yield a simple solution._

Severus paced the tiny sitting room now, the letter he'd received that morning from Monsieur Moreau gripped tightly in his hand. He had truly thought that getting her in would be a long shot at best considering Zoe's age, but the new Beauxbatons Headmaster seemed genuinely pleased to take a young witch of Zoe's credentials and aptitude and had brushed off the fact that the girl would be a year younger than most of her contemporaries. The arrival of the letter, however, had done little to quell Severus's reservations and he now felt even more uneasy than he had before. After all, he had yet to break it to Zoe that she would not be going to Hogwarts and somehow he doubted she would resign herself to his alternative easily.

For the last half hour, Severus had tried to come up with a good way to break it to his daughter that the French school would be the institution she would attend. He had hardly come up with anything when Zoe strolled joyously into the room carrying a thick book under her arm. She smiled up at him and sat cross-legged on the small sofa, opening the tome to a marked page. Severus continued to pace. He needed to tell her.

"Do you think I could get an owl?" Zoe asked just then, looking up from her book. "It says here in _Hogwarts:_ _A_ _History_ that the most common familiar throughout the record of the school has been an owl. But I don't know. I don't think I'd want one just because everyone else has one. But they're really smart and useful and, well, I don't think I'd want a toad or a cat."

Severus turned from his daughter to look out the window. In the last week, all Zoe had been able to talk about was going to Hogwarts, being Sorted, learning spells, buying a wand and brewing potions with other children. This was going to be difficult.

"I already have an owl," he informed her.

"I suppose, but you won't ever let me near Zeus."

Zeus.

Severus had never named his great horned owl because he thought naming animals was nonsense, yet in the last few years, Zoe had taken to calling the bird Zeus, King of the Owls. It was also true he had prohibited her from utilizing the owl partially because he never knew when he would need it for urgent correspondences with his clients, but also because the bird was rather temperamental; no doubt Zoe would find some way to ruffle its feathers and cause it to retaliate.

"I can't wait to see the Great Hall and all those floating candles! And the ceiling! Does it really imitate the sky outdoors?" Zoe asked and Severus could no longer ignore the issue. He had her acceptance letter for Beauxbatons in hand and he needed to get this over with.

He crossed silently to his daughter and took the book from her lap, closed it and set it placidly upon the table. This gesture caused Zoe to wrinkle her forehead in confusion, but Severus ignored her. He began to pace again, then finally settled for sitting in the armchair facing the sofa. He wanted to break this to her as gently as possible.

"Zoe, I have deliberated on this issue for the last week and decided that you will not be going to Hogwarts," he stated plainly.

Zoe's features fell immediately. _Damn, Snape, you certainly made a mess of that_, he chastised himself.

"What do you mean I won't be going to Hogwarts?"

"I mean that I received a letter from Monsieur Moreau, this morning," Severus began cautiously, "and, as the Headmaster, he believes you will make an excellent addition to the student population at Beauxbatons this autumn. He sounded very delighted to have you, in fact. Your aptitude scores were very encouraging, of course, and he was extremely interested to hear that your magical abilities were already so well controlled at your age…"

"But you always say I let my emotions control my magic when I should be using my brain," Zoe stated, wrinkling her brow.

Severus inclined his head slightly. "Yes, well, I wrote him that you are a very astute child, that you learn quickly and usually don't repeat your mistakes."

"You wrote him?" Zoe asked, her features growing even more perplexed and worse—somewhat betrayed.

"Yes."

"After I got my Hogwarts letter?"

Oh no. Turning his eyes away from his daughter, he once again nodded ever so slightly. Only when Zoe remained silent for several moments did Severus dare look up at her again. _Coward_, he thought.

"Zoe, I truly think that Beauxbatons—"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, for at that moment, Zoe rocketed off the sofa and stood before him, her hands clenched in fury.

"But I don't _want_ to go to Beauxbatons! I _want_ to go to Hogwarts!" she raged, teeth clenched and voice resolute.

Severus tried to remain composed in the face of her disrespectful outburst.

"Well," he began as calmly as he could, "I believe that, all things considered, Beauxbatons would be a better fit for you as a student. You will be challenged academically and—"

"What have you considered?" Zoe cut him off again.

"Sorry?"

"You said, 'all things considered'. What have you considered?"

Severus froze. He _had_ said that. The truth was that he had considered a great many things in the last week, the first of which was her reaction at the news he was a former Death Eater. He'd _considered_ erasing her memory of ever receiving her Hogwarts letter. He'd even _considered_ not sending her to school at all. However, none of these _considerations_ had been what one could call feasible and Severus had dropped them all in order to focus on this one alternative option.

"That is none of your concern," he told her through gritted teeth then, taking a deep breath, he continued. "Suffice it to say that, as your father, it is my responsibility to act in your best interests and I say that you are going to Beauxbatons."

"But I don't want to go there," Zoe said in a low voice, growing visibly frustrated.

Severus blinked unconcernedly. "It is either there or nowhere."

At these words, the look in Zoe's eyes changed from a green of melancholy and confusion that she had harbored since the beginning of the discussion and began to blaze red-orange in anger and defiance.

She stomped one foot childishly on the floor and at the same instant, a gust of wind made its way around the room and the polished, volcanic glass paperweight resting on a small stack of parchment on the end table beside the sofa exploded. His reflexes still honed, Severus had pulled his wand from his robes at the change of her eye color and quickly cast a nonverbal Shield Charm around both him and Zoe to protect them from the shards of glass shooting in every direction. Though, he had the distinct impression that it was for his safety alone that he should be concerned.

"I WANT TO GO TO HOGWARTS!" she shrieked at him.

Severus had had enough. He stood, towering over her and scowled harshly down at his daughter.

"Well, you don't have a say in the matter and this petulance will not change my mind," he hissed. "My decision is final. Now, you will control yourself before you break something else."

The girl continued to seethe, the air whipping about the room, as books rattled menacingly upon the numerous shelves along the walls.

"Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth," Severus said slowly in warning, hoping the tone of his voice would convey to his daughter how much another uncontrolled magical outburst was unlikely to be in her best interest.

Zoe stood firmly in place glaring at her father, breathing heavily. As she knead her fingers into her palms, the radiating anger and unrestrained magic began to subside slightly as tears began to well up in her eyes instead. Then, without warning, she pushed past him and exited the room, stomping her way to the hidden doorway in the bookcase and all the way up the stairs, the gust of wind following in her wake.

Severus closed his eyes and sat dejectedly back into his armchair. To say that the conversation had not gone well would have been an understatement.

_You are a foolish coward, Severus Snape,_ he thought pointing his wand straight up and Vanishing the glass rubble from all over the room with a single wave.

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><p>Zoe entered into her attic bedroom in a rage she had never felt before. Sure, her father had done things to anger her before but never in a million years had Zoe thought that he would keep her from attending school, or at least the school she wanted to attend. What was so wrong with Hogwarts? Minerva had said wonderful things to her over the years about the magical institution she headed and Zoe had always assumed Hogwarts was where she would go. Her father had gone there, after all, as had Minerva. Both of Scorpius's parents had too and Mr. Lupin and his wife and son and everyone else that Zoe knew. But <em>no<em>, her father was making sure that _she_ would not be going.

She paced, fuming, back and forth across her small bedroom several times with her fists balled at her sides. After a minute or two, she paused in the middle and started to hop furiously up and down on the floor, pounding her feet into the wooden planks with as much force as she could muster. She wanted her father to know of her displeasure.

"I _want_ to go to _Hogwarts_!" she seethed, still jumping. She wanted to scream it, but knew it would be of little use to do so, for she was quite certain that her father had already cast a Silencing Charm on the ceiling above him in order to tune out her tantrum. She hoped, however, that he would still feel the vibrations her jumping would cause.

After a few minutes, Zoe stopped pounding her feet into the floor and flung herself onto her bed. She knew that throwing a fit wouldn't get her very far anyway. It never did. And truthfully, she doubted her father was likely to tolerate her outbursts for much longer. After all, she had already completely obliterated the fancy paperweight he'd gotten last Christmas from his godson, Scorpius Malfoy, and she doubted it could be repaired.

It just wasn't fair. She'd longed to go to Hogwarts her whole life. Why would her father just decide out of the blue to send her elsewhere? Zoe may have been only ten, but she knew there had to be more to this than just what was being conveyed. In any case, he hadn't explained anything properly at all. He'd just said it was in Zoe's best interest and that Beauxbatons was a good school and that he'd "considered things", but that meant nothing to her. She wanted to know _why_.

She laid in her bed for the longest time—hot tears streaming down the sides of her face—and stared at the slanted ceiling of her bedroom. What could she possibly say to her father to make him change his mind? Her greatest argument was just that she wanted to go and that was feeble at best. In any case, he was unlikely to listen to her anyway.

Zoe lay there sulking for hours contemplating every possible solution. Twice she seriously considered running away to live with her godmother. Then at least she would already be at Hogwarts during the school term. That idea was quickly extinguished, however, as she felt it was too obvious where she would go and she figured her father would never allow it to happen. He would drag her back to Spinner's End in a Full Body-Bind if he had to. Nevertheless, Zoe knew Minerva wouldn't hinder her dreams as her father had.

"Minerva would let me go," she mumbled to herself, smearing a fresh wave of tears away from her cheeks and wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Suddenly, an idea wriggled its way into her brain and she sat bolt upright. Sweet Slytherin, why hadn't she thought of it sooner? Leaping off the bed and bounding across the room to the stairs, Zoe inwardly kicked herself for wasting so much time crying like a baby.

Descending the stairs as quietly as she could, Zoe peeked around the door leading from her bedroom and looked both ways down the short, first floor corridor. Though the summer sun had not completely set yet, it was well past dinnertime and the house was almost completely dark. Ollie had come up to see her earlier and told her that her father wished for her to eat with him, but Zoe had refused, claiming she wasn't hungry. No protest had come and Zoe assumed her father didn't want to start another row so soon, for he had allowed her to stay in her room and Ollie had returned soon after with a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice. She had only left the attic once all day—to go to the bathroom on the floor below—and Zoe had been grateful not to run into her father then.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Zoe sat down on the bottom step and pulled off her shoes. The floorboards would be creaky enough without them and she needed to be as stealthy as possible. She inched the door open and stepped out into the corridor, delicately tiptoeing in just her socks. She passed the door of her father's bedroom, saw that it was completely dark, and continued past the also-dark study to the stairs leading to the ground floor of the house. Lying down flat on her stomach, she peered down the stairwell at the end of which was the back of the bookcase door leading to the sitting room below. The door was halfway open and Zoe could see the glow of the fire and hear pages rustling as her father flipped through one of his many books.

Satisfied, she stood back up and backtracked into her father's study, closing the door quietly behind her. Once inside, she padded as softly as she could to his desk and pulled a spare bit of parchment from the middle drawer. She uncapped the ink well and grabbed for the handsome eagle-feather quill next to it. Then she paused. Her letter would need to be concise, but still convey her dilemma.

Zoe thought for a minute, keeping her ears vigilant for any sign that her father may feel inclined to move his reading to the study, then dipped the quill in the ink and started to write. It didn't take long to scribble out the short message. Zoe reread her letter once through and—satisfied with the wording—she replaced the ink lid and put the quill back into its holder.

Folding her note over twice, she looked up to the bookcase across the room where Zeus sat perched, his large, round eyes watching her every movement. Her father believed the great horned owl was dangerous for Zoe but as she gave a quiet whistle to the bird and it landed regally on the desk in front of her, Zoe smirked. Her father had no idea how loyal and pleasant Zeus had always been to her; not once had the owl snapped at her as he sometimes did his true owner. She looked around to the door a moment to look and listen for any sign of movement, then turned back to the bird and whispered to it.

"Zeus, this has to get to Minerva as soon as possible. I think she's probably at Hogwarts, but I'm not sure. You may need to go to Portree. Do you think you can find her?"

The owl gave a deep hoot and reached out with its beak, grabbing for the letter in Zoe's hand, which she happily relinquished.

"Excellent," she breathed as she crossed to the window and opened it.

Zeus immediately spread his great wings and glided to the windowsill and with one last, low hoot to Zoe, he soared out the window and into the dwindling light.

As she crept back up to the attic and changed into her pajamas, Zoe relaxed a little. Of course, she knew she was going to be in trouble for using her father's owl but she convinced herself that it would all be worth it if she were able to go to Hogwarts. Her plan had to work. She was in way over her head and she needed all the help she could get to convince her father that she belonged at the famous school.

Now, all she could do was sit and wait for her savior to come. Therefore, she picked up _Hogwarts: A History_—that Ollie had covertly retrieved for her from the sitting room—and flipped back to where she had left off and started to read.

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><p><strong><em>Every time someone posts a review, a fairy comes back to life. At least that's the way I heard it...<em>**


	2. Reinforcements: Part II

**_OK, here it is. I hope you all enjoyed part one. I know a few of you were exceptionally anxious for the next part so, here it is. If you read the bonus chapter at the end of _A Very Long Day_, the beginning here is going to seem very familiar, but don't worry, there's more! Thanks to everyone who left a review or added this story to their alerts or as a favorite! You all make my days brighter when I get those email alerts._**

**_Enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

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><p><strong>Reinforcements: Part II<strong>

A few hours later, Zoe awoke to the unmistakable roar of the Floo downstairs igniting. She couldn't believe she'd fallen asleep but now that she was suddenly alert, she glanced over to the clock next to her bed. It was ten minutes past eleven.

_Merlin, Papa isn't going to be in a good mood about this at all,_ she thought as she leapt out of bed and silently bounded down two flights of stairs.

As she quietly and cautiously approached the cracked bookcase door, she heard her father speak.

"Headmistress." He sounded alarmed. "To what do I owe this late visit?"

"Is everything alright, Severus?" Minerva asked just as anxious.

Zoe peeked around the door into the tiny sitting room. Her father was still dressed in his customary black ensemble and was standing with his back to her, he was lowering his wand to his side and the book he had been reading lay unceremoniously on the floor at his feet. He had obviously assumed the person coming through the Floo was an intruder and had stood to defend himself and his home. Zoe looked past him to Minerva who stood just outside the grate. She looked quite frazzled and Zoe felt a bit guilty that she had caused the adults to worry so much.

"Of course it is," her father replied, picking up the book and laying it on a side table. "Why would it not be?"

Minerva seemed to breathe a sigh of relief then stepped forward, rummaging in a pocket of her robes.

"Not long ago, I received this message at my office at Hogwarts. It says it's urgent, so I came as quickly as I could."

Minerva came around the sofa and handed Zoe's father a sooty piece of parchment then pulled her own wand from her robes in order to siphon off all the ash and filth she'd accumulated in her journey through the fire. Zoe watched as her father took the message and read it.

After just a few moments, he spun around to face the stairs so quickly that Zoe was certain he'd seen her wide, astonished eyes as she hurriedly crouched back out of view. An instant later, the bookcase was thrown completely open by a spell, exposing Zoe in her hiding place, and she knew that her assumption had been correct.

She froze where she stood, half horrified.

"Come. Here. _Now_," her father ordered, pointing his finger at the rug directly before him.

Not daring to upset him even more by not doing as she was told, Zoe shuffled across the floor and tried to muster up as much courage as she could, looking first at her godmother's kind, but confused face then to her father's livid one as she came to a halt in front of him.

"You used my owl to send this, I presume?" he asked bitterly, pushing the parchment into her face.

Zoe hesitated for a moment—now staring at the note in her father's hand that clearly read: '_Min, I need your help. It's urgent. Zoe'_ in Zoe's own, hasty, joined-handwriting—then nodded.

"I…I thought you weren't being fair. I needed help."

"You know very well that my owl is for business only and that you are forbidden to use it. As for our previous discussion: it is at an end. I have made my decision."

"You didn't even think about what I wanted!" Zoe shouted as she looked up at him once more and felt her previous rage start to return.

"That's the luxury of being the parent," her father roared back mockingly. "I don't have to!"

Next to the sofa, Minerva had simply stared on, completely in the dark as to what this entire argument was about.

"Whoa!" she said, stepping between the father and daughter. "What's going on? What is this all about?"

Zoe pulled her defiant, blue eyes from her father's face and turned to her godmother.

"He won't let me go to Hogwarts!"

Minerva's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she turned quickly from Zoe to Zoe's father, a look of bewilderment on her face.

"Severus, is this true?" she asked. "Why wouldn't you want her to go to Hogwarts?"

Zoe watched her father stand up a little straighter and, after a moment of looking into Minerva's eyes, turned and walked away.

"I have my reasons," he muttered.

Minerva pursed her lips and watched his progress toward the window, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yes, I'm sure you do," she stated sarcastically to his back.

"_Why_?" Zoe whined loudly as she pounded her fists into her thighs in frustration.

She thought she at least deserved to know that much.

"Because I said so!" her father sneered back as he whipped around to face her once more.

Zoe rolled her eyes and threw her arms in the air before flopping down into the armchair.

"Oh, how very diplomatic," she spat contemptuously.

Her father's frown deepened and he took several angry strides toward her until Minerva stepped in front of him, placed a hand on his chest and shook her head. He halted instantly, but looked around her to Zoe.

"You mind your cheek, young lady," he scolded, pointing a finger at her.

"Stop it!" Minerva shouted, exasperated.

She looked around at Zoe sternly. "Zoe, you will be respectful to your father or you will not have my help on this issue. And Severus," she turned back to face Zoe's father, "this is ridiculous. She's been looking forward to this for years. Why on earth would you keep her from it now?"

"She's been accepted to Beauxbatons," he replied indignantly.

"But I don't even know French!" Zoe stated loudly.

"You're a quick study," her father growled. "It is a fine magical institution—"

"It's not the best!" Zoe interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Minerva adjusted her posture and eyed Zoe's father critically.

"I rather agree with that. Severus, Zoe's name has been down for Hogwarts since the day she was born, just as yours was. Don't you want to see her go to your alma mater?"

Zoe's head spun from Minerva to her father. She wanted to gauge his reaction to Minerva's question in addition to hearing his explanation. A look of conflicted remorse or sadness seemed to flutter across her father's features, but in the instant he looked down and saw her staring up at him, it vanished.

"Upstairs, Zoe. Now," he commanded suddenly as his black eyes bored into Minerva, his features once more expressionless and unreadable.

Zoe was dumbfounded. Was he really going to send her out just as they were getting to the crux of the issue? Now she knew there was definitely more to this than just that her father thought she would excel at the foreign school. On top of that, the fact that he wouldn't even tell her why seemed very unfair.

"But I—" she tried to argue.

"_You_ are already facing a week of house arrest and additional chores in the conservatory for your disobedience in the employment of my owl. Perhaps two weeks would be more to your liking?" he asked staring down on her severely.

"But what about—"

Her father raised his eyebrows at her—the unmistakable expression that she had better stop arguing and do as he says or accept the consequences. Zoe bit her lip and, looking first at Minerva then back to her father, she made a quick decision and chose the consequences. It was a long shot, but just maybe she would get some answers.

"I'm staying. I want to know why you won't let me go," she stated, the words spewing quickly from her mouth.

In the blink of an eye, her father had maneuvered around Minerva, grabbed Zoe's upper arm and harshly yanked her to her feet. As he pulled her toward the exit, he leaned down and growled into her ear.

"I told you to go upstairs," he said. Then he landed a single swat to her backside and pushed her into the stairwell.

"Fight for me, Min," Zoe beseeched to her godmother over her shoulder.

"I shall do my best, darling," Minerva said as she settled herself down onto the sofa.

Zoe started up the steps once her father relinquished his grasp on her arm but turned to direct one last glower at him as the bookcase clicked closed behind her. Once in the dark, she waited a few moments, then tiptoed back down and placed her ear to the door.

Nothing. Her father had most likely cast enchantments to keep her from eavesdropping.

_I'll just wait then_, Zoe thought defiantly and with that, she sat down onto one of the steps and fidgeted slightly. In retrospect, her thin pajama bottoms had been a mediocre cushion to the swipe of her father's hand. Though he threatened it from time to time, it was rare that her father actually smacked her. Tonight, however, she knew she had tested the limits of his tolerance for cheek and obstinacy further than she ever had before and she paid for it.

Although, in the end, Zoe also knew that she had won this battle, for her father now had to acknowledge how much she wanted to go to Hogwarts and that she was willing to do almost anything to get there.

Leaning back against the wall, she stretched her legs out and placed her bare feet on the opposite wall of the narrow stairwell. Hopefully, this wouldn't take long.

* * *

><p>"She's got nerve, that one," Minerva observed wryly as Severus turned from the bookcase having cast a number of privacy charms and slowly crossed to the faded, green armchair from which he'd just pulled Zoe and collapsed into it.<p>

"Yes, her mother was much the same," Severus stated simply, rubbing his temples.

Minerva lowered her chin and eyed him skeptically over her spectacles.

"I don't know… I rather think she picked that biting wit and scathing tone up from someone else. Her _father_ perhaps…" she teased. "You have to hand it to her, Severus: she made certain you couldn't overlook her enthusiasm and perseverance on this issue."

Severus inclined his head and sighed resignedly.

"Minerva, whatever were you thinking sending her that letter? She isn't even eleven yet."

"I'm sorry I didn't have the foresight to know it was going to cause the Third Great Wizarding War of our time within the Snape household. In the future, I'll be sure to consult with Sybil Trelawney beforehand."

When Severus merely scowled, Minerva sighed and continued.

"Zoe's eleventh birthday is September first. It isn't unheard of to admit a future student early, especially one as bright as Zoe. I'm really rather shocked that you were surprised."

"So you pushed for this with the Board of Governors then?" he asked.

"Her name was one of four students this year to come under review for having their eleventh birthday fall on or closely after the start of term. I merely told the Board that I knew her and didn't think she would have a problem acclimating to the rigorous course load."

Severus's frown deepened.

"And you don't believe that such a _glowing_ evaluation from the Headmistress herself swayed their decision at all?" he mocked.

Minerva rolled her eyes and raised her arms in irritation.

"Good heavens, Severus, I wasn't going to lie. You should be proud! Of those four children, Zoe was the only one to be admitted early and she is the first to be so in over ten years. The rest will have to wait until they're nearly twelve to begin at Hogwarts."

"What a shame," Severus bit back scornfully. "And don't accuse me of not being proud of her. Zoe may be willful, defiant and stubborn but she has done little to disappoint me—aside from the audacious display of insubordination, I just witnessed, of course. Even her hapless forays into potion-making haven't been entirely…disheartening."

"Forgive me," Minerva conceded.

Severus nodded once then placed his chin on the palm of his hand and stared off into space. He knew, of course, where this conversation was heading and he was not looking forward to it.

"Severus," Minerva began again. "You know you're being unreasonable."

"She isn't ready for Hogwarts," Severus snapped, though the declaration sounded lame, even to his own ears. Minerva narrowed her eyes at him skeptically.

"_She_ isn't ready? Are you sure that _you_ just aren't ready to send her?"

Severus merely glared at his former colleague.

"Why don't you want Zoe to attend Hogwarts?" Minerva pressed again.

Severus sighed heavily. "You know exactly why. I have kept Zoe from much of the stories of the wars, but I know every other parent in the wizarding world has been much more forthcoming about those events. No doubt a majority of the children attending that school know or think they know much more than they should, which includes information regarding my own involvement."

Minerva wrinkled her brow and tilted her head in confusion.

"You were decorated by the Minister for Magic, Severus—even if you chose to be absent from the award ceremony. Among your many medals are a First Class Order of Merlin and the Star of Valor, for heaven's sake. Don't you think Zoe would be proud to know her father is a war hero?"

"You know very well that that is not what I am referring to and that those are not the tales she will be spun by _all_ her peers. It's common knowledge out there that I was a Death Eater and the killer of Albus Dumbledore. That doesn't even include the numerous other witches and wizards I couldn't save."

"That's just it, Severus. You _couldn't_ save them. It was out of your hands. That doesn't mean you wouldn't have, if you could."

Growling low in his throat, Severus rose and strode belligerently to the mantle, frustrated with the elder witch's logic. Minerva stayed quiet behind him.

As he tried to sort through his complex emotions, Severus's eyes fell onto a lone, still, black-and-white framed photograph. He vaguely remembered Minerva taking it.

In it, Severus sat in the familiar green chair in that very sitting room with a nearly two-year-old Zoe in his arms. If he recalled correctly, he had been trying to get the fussy, feisty toddler to settle into sleep and she had been fighting every tactic. Just as Severus had looked up to Minerva for assistance, Zoe's pudgy little fingers had reached innocently up and rested on his hooked nose. He had been startled and looked down on the little girl, softening his expression. Almost immediately, she had stopped squirming, snuggled into his arms, and closed her beautiful, dark blue eyes.

That was the image Minerva had captured with her infernal camera: Zoe drifting off to sleep and him looking down on her with a small, uncharacteristic smile playing upon his lips.

He had wanted that forever; he never wanted that child to cease feeling safe and relaxed with him. He may not have always been the gushy, loving father she wanted or deserved—he didn't know how to be that—but he had _always_ been there, a constant. What he valued more than anything was the trust that Zoe had in him and he knew that every ounce of that would all come crashing down the moment she found out what he had been, what he had done.

"Severus," he heard Minerva say behind him and he slowly turned away from the picture to look at her. "I understand your need to want to protect Zoe from what she may hear, to ensure that she doesn't bode any ill feelings toward you for your past. I have seen the same sentiments from parents before, but you can't keep this from her forever. There are books, newspaper articles, people talk and she will have History classes no matter what school she attends. She will find out eventually. However, you _can_ ease the burden of such information for her. _You_ could tell her—make her aware of and understand the opposing viewpoints so that when she encounters them, she is prepared."

Severus felt his shoulders sag. How was he supposed to do that? Mentioning to your daughter that you were a former outlaw and killer was hardly something that came up at the dinner table.

"I can't do that."

Minerva shook her head. "She may be upset at first, but she is going to adjust to the news much better if it comes from you rather than some tactless classmate. You are her father, she loves you, and she is a resilient, bright child. Zoe will come to understand if you are frank and explain everything to her. Start from the beginning if you have to."

Severus scoffed. Even if he were to tell her about his past, it still didn't solve every issue he had with sending her to Hogwarts in the present.

"And what about her protection?" he asked, his mood becoming more and more sour with each passing moment.

"What about it?" Minerva asked, looking thoroughly shocked, almost offended.

"You have seen firsthand the fallibility of that castle."

"Severus, the war has been over for quite some time."

"Yes, I know that. But what of those Death Eaters they have released over the years? You know as well as I do that most of them believe me to be the catalyst in the downfall of their Master. I'm sure any one of them would love the opportunity to get to me and if that's the case, Zoe is at risk. She wouldn't be safe there, Minerva," Severus confided, once more taking a seat.

Minerva eyed Severus critically for several moments.

"And you think that wouldn't be the case at Beauxbatons?"

Severus looked away from her at that. "I honestly didn't expect her to be accepted—merely a desperate, half-hearted, diversionary tactic, I assure you." His gaze settled back onto the Headmistress then. "I had _assumed_, after all, that I would have another year to come up with a viable plan of action when it came to Hogwarts."

Minerva pursed her lips and folded her hands across her lap. "How very unlike you. I assumed you'd been preparing for her departure since infancy."

She ignored the sour look Severus shot at her then and seemed to contemplate something for a moment. Then she spoke.

"Well, Severus, if you're truly concerned for her safety, I may have the perfect solution for you. Just yesterday, my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher resigned on me. Do you remember August Pounder? Well, apparently he intends to write a book on the history of defensive spells and felt that his full schedule as a professor was hindering his 'creative processes' or some rubbish. Anyway, if you would like it, the position is yours. You would be doing me a great service by returning to the school—not to mention saving me from an exhausting search—and you could keep an eye on Zoe at the same time."

Severus furrowed his brow. Yes, teaching would most certainly allow him to look after Zoe while she attended school. He would see her every day. Of course, it would be back to dealing with the mindlessness of other peoples' offspring; back to grading thousands upon thousands of mediocre student writings; back to patrolling the hallways and supervising detentions and Hogsmeade weekends; back to constant headaches…

However, somehow he knew that he could do all of that again if it meant Zoe would be safe and under his watchful eye.

Severus inclined his head. "This _would_ finally give me the reason and the means to drop the menial orders coming out of St. Mungo's…," he said, contemplating. "…which, in turn, would free my schedule considerably to—"

"—teach dunderheads, yes," Minerva said candidly, teasing.

Severus narrowed his eyes briefly at her jibe, but nodded in finality.

"I'll want that raise you keep dangling in front of me," he demanded, pointing a finger at the witch across from him, "as well as a private laboratory in the east corridor of the dungeons away from the classrooms. There's no reason to disappoint my other clientele by ceasing their potions orders."

"Yes, yes, of course," Minerva said, waving a hand dismissively. She smiled gratefully. "This is splendid. I will draw up a new contract with the governors in the morning. Oh, I'd love to see how Zoe will react to this news, but I'm sure she's fast asleep by now…" She turned her eyes wistfully in the direction of the stairs.

Severus snorted. "I really doubt it."

Minerva widened her eyes in shock. "But it's nearly one in the morning. Surely she went up to bed?"

Severus shook his head.

"And surrender the chance to defy me yet again?" he said. "No, I imagine she is still sitting just beyond the door futilely attempting to eavesdrop."

Minerva seemed shocked, but Severus merely took out his wand and pointed it to the hidden door. Slowly, the bookcase creaked open to reveal Zoe snoozing in the stairwell beyond. She had her feet propped up against one wall and her head was resting inelegantly on her arm on the step above. As the door opened and the stairwell was flooded with light, her eyes fluttered open and she quickly adjusted her posture into a sitting position and stared, horrified, at the adults looking in on her.

"Er, what did you decide?" she asked awkwardly, stepping out into the sitting room.

"You were quite right," Severus began smugly. "Minerva was able to sway my thoughts on the matter. It looks like you'll be attending Hogwarts after all."

Just as Severus predicted, Zoe's face alit with excitement.

"Yes!" she cried, running over to hug the Headmistress. "Thank you so much, Minerva! You're the best! I can't wait to buy all my school stuff and go to Platform 9¾ and—"

Severus piped up then. "This is truly thrilling for the both of us. You'll be starting at Hogwarts in September and I'll be starting a new career… or rather, picking up with an old one."

Zoe stopped celebrating and looked at her father, perplexed.

"What do you mean?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at his daughter then looked to his new boss.

"Headmistress, perhaps you would like to give your goddaughter the happy news?"

Severus watched as Zoe's head whipped from him to her godmother at lightning speed. Minerva was smiling, of course.

"Your father has agreed to return to teach at Hogwarts, Zoe. He will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Zoe's shoulders sagged and all the happiness left her face and an annoyed, defeated expression replaced it.

"I think I'd rather go to Beauxbatons after all," she mumbled, collapsing onto the sofa next to Minerva.

"Too late. It's been decided," Severus stated, then he eyed his daughter authoritatively. "But for now, the only place you are going is to bed."

Zoe shrugged and tried to stifle a yawn. She reached over and hugged Minerva once more then rose and walked toward her father.

"Goodnight, Papa," she said, walking past his chair. Severus latched onto her wrist before she moved out of reach, however.

Zoe looked down at him with a furrowed brow.

He knew he had made the mistake of allowing her to fall asleep angry with him earlier and he knew, of course, that she had only been fighting for something that she truly wanted, but she would not be going to bed now under any sort of impression that she had exhibited acceptable behavior that night.

"That will be _two_ _weeks_ in the conservatory starting tomorrow for using my owl, disobeying and eavesdropping," Severus said sternly.

Her jaw dropped, stunned, and she pulled away from him.

"But the door was warded!" she complained. "I couldn't hear a thing!"

He resolutely held her gaze.

"That is hardly the point. When I told you to go upstairs, I meant it."

Zoe stared at him in indignation but, eventually, she huffed as she lowered her gaze in defeat. "Yes, sir," she conceded, sighing. She trudged to the door while the vaguest, mumbled sound of 'not fair' found its way to Severus's ears. He smirked. After all, it was extremely unlikely that she would serve the whole sentence, but Severus was content to allow her to _think_ that she would, for the time being.

He looked up at Minerva who was watching his daughter's progress with a grandmotherly look of fondness. After a few moments, Severus heard the bookcase click behind him and the unmistakable sound of Zoe padding up the stairs to her bedroom.

"Sleep well," he whispered so softly, he doubted Minerva even heard him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Four out of five people have reported a day of good karma after leaving reviews for fan fiction they have read, whether they liked the story or not. :)<em>**


	3. Digging and Dreams of Dragons

**_Sorry guys, for some reason some of you have been able to view my new chapter the first two times I've posted it, but it hasn't shown up for others. I'm assuming is having some technical difficulties... It isn't even showing up on my page that a new chapter has been posted, yet I've been getting review alerts... Very strange. But here it is AGAIN. Hopefully it works for everyone-including me._**

_**You can all thank 1066AndAllThat for convincing me to post this now instead of later. It's just a transitional chapter, but it's fun. Have a good day!**_

* * *

><p><strong>Digging and Dreams of Dragons<strong>

Nearly a week later, Severus made the all-too-familiar trip to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to sign his yearly contract for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. While there, Minerva had made sure to show him his classroom, which, surprisingly, hadn't changed much since he'd last stepped foot in it nearly eighteen years before. The student desks were arranged in exactly the same positions between the door and teacher's desk at the head of the classroom and, though he knew many of the walls had been hit with spells or even destroyed in that final battle on the grounds, the blocks and mortar had been replaced and aged to match the stones that had resided there from the time the castle was first erected.

He entered into the formal office off the classroom that he'd occupied that one awful year he'd held the DADA position previously and looked around. The fireplace still stood just to the right of the door and the tops of the windows still had the same medieval events depicted in yellow stained glass. The large desk had been pushed against the wall in order to roll up the patterned wool rug that normally adorned the hardwood floor—Severus assumed for cleaning. He walked to the window and looked down onto the sunlit grounds.

"Is it to your liking?" Minerva asked from the doorway.

Severus turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back. He did one last look around the room before addressing her.

"It looks much like it did when I last stood in it."

"It's a bit plain at the moment—as is the classroom—but I've no doubt that you'll liven it up soon enough with your jars of deadly specimens and Unforgivable Curse posters."

Severus smirked. "They do brighten a room, I'd say."

Minerva smiled back then strode to the far end of the room and stood next to a length of wall between two bookcases.

"If you'll come here, Severus, we can construct the wards to your private suite. Do you remember how this works?"

Severus nodded and walked forward, removing his wand from his robes as he approached the Headmistress. He stood next to her and watched as she ran her own wand across a seam in the stone blocks and uttered under her breath, her eyes closed in concentration. After she had done this a few times, she opened her eyes and looked to Severus who passed his own wand once over the seam. Then he placed the tips of all five fingers onto the stone to the left of where he knew the entry to be and muttered a new password under his breath. Instantly, all the blocks between the bookcases melted away to reveal a stone staircase leading up to a large black door.

"The entry is now tailored to you and you alone. Nobody may enter without your consent," Minerva informed him. Severus nodded. She held out her hand and indicated for him to precede her up the stairs.

Severus opened the plain, black door and proceeded into the large front room that would act as the sitting room, study and dining area of his new quarters. The first thing he laid eyes upon was a darkened archway directly across the room from him, which he assumed led to a small corridor and the door to the sleeping chambers. As he looked around, he was happy to see that the furniture, at least, had been updated relatively recently. Whereas before the upholstered sofa and chairs in all the teachers' quarters had been threadbare and the wooden accents chipped and smudged, here, there stood a lightly used leather sofa and two matching, wing-backed armchairs as well as a divan upholstered in a deep green fabric.

The fireplace opposite the sofa was large enough to accommodate Floo travel and correspondence and the rug lying across the stone floor seemed almost new. The dining table was stained a deep cherry color, and matched the large, mahogany desk where Severus would do much of his off-hours grading as well as keep up with his potions clientele. Behind the desk, between the bookcases, were three enormous windows that rose from waist-level to nearly the ceiling. Severus noted that the light streaming in made a very pleasant change from the windowless dungeons he had resided in during his first tenure as a professor.

He made his way around the desk, sat down in the ornate chair behind it and sighed, leaning back.

"Are you pleased with the updates?"

Severus nodded. "They are more than adequate. Thank you."

"I have also arranged for one of the old, unused classrooms in the dungeons to be converted into your own, private laboratory and storage, per your request. We can view that a bit later." Severus nodded pleasantly and Minerva smiled before continuing. "The mattress and curtains in the bedroom are brand new, of course. Will Ollie be accompanying you during the school term?"

Severus nodded again. "I'm sure she would like to and there is no reason why she shouldn't. Though, let's not mention it to Zoe. I don't want her calling upon Ollie for the simplest of things in order to impress her classmates whilst here."

"Do you really think Zoe would overstep herself like that?" Minerva asked curiously, as she took a seat in one of the chairs across from Severus's new desk.

"I'd rather not tempt her."

Minerva nodded. "How has she been since she received the happy news?"

"Mopey and intolerable," Severus stated automatically. When Minerva looked puzzled, he elaborated. "I believe she's become rather…bored with her punishment over this last week and has chosen to take out her frustrations with whining and melodramatics."

"Is that what she's doing today? Working in your conservatory?"

Severus frowned. "She bloody well better be. Though, I daresay without me there to look in on her from time to time, she isn't accomplishing much."

"You shouldn't be so hard on her, Severus. She just wanted what any magical child in Britain her age wants. Now, I'd agree that she may have had a rather disrespectful way of going about it, but she knew what she wanted and she did everything in her power to get it. Ambition and cunning…those sound like some very _Slytherin_ qualities, you know…"

Severus smirked lightly then frowned again.

"Her behavior was inexcusable and she needs to understand that I will not tolerate it," he stated coldly. Then he sighed and his tone and demeanor softened. "I was thinking that tomorrow would be as good a day as any to take her to Diagon Alley for her supplies."

"That's wonderful," Minerva beamed. "She's going to be so excited."

"Hmm," Severus agreed.

* * *

><p>Zoe had awoken that morning to the sounds of Ollie tidying her bedroom. As the house elf strolled about the room picking up random articles of Zoe's clothing and humming to herself, she looked up to see Zoe staring at her from her pillow. Zoe quickly tried to close her eyes again and feign sleep, but Ollie had seen her.<p>

"Miss Zoe has best be getting out of bed. Her breakfast is ready and her Papa is expecting her in his conservatory this morning," Ollie said.

Zoe moaned in annoyance. "Hasn't he tortured me enough?" she asked, sitting up and pushing her feet into her slippers before standing from her bed to walk to the bathroom downstairs.

When she'd finished relieving herself and brushing her teeth, she walked out into the small landing to see that the two doors in front of her were open and the rooms vacant.

To her left into her father's bedroom, she could see that the large bed had already been made up and the curtains thrown wide open to let in the morning sunlight. The same was true of his study on her right and Zoe could see that the parchment papers and books were stacked neatly to the outside rim of the desk. It didn't even look as if he had sat there this morning. Perplexed, she looked to Ollie who was descending the stairs from her attic bedroom with an armful of laundry.

"Ollie, is Papa brewing today?" she asked. "He hasn't been in his study."

Ollie didn't even look at Zoe as she crossed in front of her toward the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

"Mister Severus left first thing this morning for Hogwarts School. He is instructing Ollie to make sure that Miss Zoe eats a good breakfast and is behaved while he is out. He says to tells Miss Zoe that under no circumstance is Miss Zoe to be leaving the house because Miss Zoe is still being punished. Miss Zoe is to be spending the day digging up roots." With that, the elf turned to leave. She descended two steps then she seemed to remember something and turned back to look at Zoe. "Ollie wishes Miss Zoe to do as her Papa says. Ollie hates to sees Miss Zoe in troubles."

Zoe nodded, but when Ollie was out of sight, she rolled her eyes. She loved Ollie very much, but Zoe felt that she probably wouldn't get into nearly as much "troubles" from day to day if the house elf wouldn't tell on her so much.

After she'd eaten breakfast and changed into a tatty pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she walked to the back door off the kitchen and exited into the back garden.

It was a beautiful August day. Above the sounds of the birds chirping and the distant sounds of Muggles mowing their tiny lawns, Zoe could hear the rush of the water in the river. Although it wasn't too hot out yet, she even thought she could distantly hear some of the town children already splashing around and playing in the cool water, enjoying their summer day.

Zoe wished that could be her.

Why did her father have to be so strict? Surely, she'd been punished enough for a few cheeky comments and some eavesdropping. When she thought about it some more, however, she supposed she was also paying the piper for her blatant disobedience…and defiance… Okay, so maybe there was a lot for her to be punished for, but she'd been digging around in the stupid conservatory for a week. Wasn't he satisfied yet?

He sure seemed smug when he sent her to it every morning after breakfast _and_ when he looked in on her about once an hour all day long. She'd been sure to shoot him as many sour glares as she could when this happened, but she felt the only effect it had was in making her father smirk even more as he pointed out that she'd forgotten to pick the fruit off one of his stupid plants.

As she entered into the door of the conservatory in the back corner of the garden, Zoe sighed. It was going to be yet another day of dirt under her fingernails and beetles crawling up her arms.

From the outside, the greenhouse looked like nothing more than a tiny glass shed but on the inside, it was expanded magically to roughly twice the size of the lowest level of the house. It was hot inside and Zoe looked up through the glass panes to see the morning sun was already beaming down on her with intensity. She didn't worry about being sunburned, however: her father had reinforced the glass with a spell that would only allow the ultraviolet rays coming through it to affect the plants and not human skin.

Though her father bought many of the rarer plant products he needed from exporters and magi-horticulturists, many of the more common herbs and flora for his potions he grew and maintained here. He kept an eye on most of it himself—watering and pruning and replanting and such—but he sometimes hired in an Herbologist—Mr. Leach—for the more difficult specimens, as well as when the plants were ready for cultivation, drying and storage.

Lucky for her father, Zoe had chosen the perfect time to get into a whole heap of trouble and he had decided not to call on his hired help this week in order to give her some valuable time in the conservatory to "think about proper behavior" and "practice her civil tone". Zoe rolled her eyes again at the memory of his words to her. _I sure hope he's saving a lot of Galleons_, she thought spitefully.

Zoe had always found potion-making interesting, including the preparation of plants and animals and such. Typically, she enjoyed helping her father in the conservatory where he would teach her all the names of the different plants and how they were used to make all kinds of different potions and antidotes and salves. It was all very fascinating.

However, when she had to work there as punishment, the conservatory was the worst. Her father would always make her do the most uninteresting, tedious and tiresome tasks like clipping off dead leaves or pulling up weeds from between the plants; these were simple tasks that she could do without supervision and would take him no time to do on his own with magic, but took her all day when doing them Muggle-style.

Zoe walked to the far wall of the greenhouse, picked up the overlarge apron off the workbench she'd discarded it on the day before and pulled it over her head, tying the strings loosely around her waist. Slipping off her sandals, she then put on the rubber garden shoes beneath the bench and plopped a straw hat onto her head, instantly shading her face. She knew she looked ridiculous, but knew her father looked much more comical in the same attire. As she went for the garden spade, she noticed a note held down by the small shovel. Opening the parchment, she immediately noticed her father's precise handwriting.

_The ginger roots are to be your priority today, but be cautious when using the knife. Mind Ollie. I will return in the afternoon._

Zoe moodily crumpled up the parchment and threw it as far as she could away from her before picking up the spade again, the aforementioned knife and a bushel basket and trudging into the expanse of fertilized soil next to her. She was careful not to trample the plants themselves, of course—the last thing she needed was another lecture from her father for not minding her step around delicate potions ingredients.

The roots were buried deep and by the time she'd finally managed to dig up one, she was already sweating and achy. Wiping her hands on her apron, she reached back and braided her long, dark hair into a thick plait in order to get it off her shoulders. As she dug around in the dirt, she began to grow bored and her mind started to wander.

She couldn't wait to start at Hogwarts. There were new children to meet and exciting classes and spells to learn—even now she still didn't understand what her father had found so horrible about her going. And why did he suddenly seem fine with the concept after Minerva offered him a teaching position?

She wanted to think that her father would just miss her terribly if she was gone for a large portion of the year, but he was unlikely to admit to that. After all, he was always in his laboratory brewing potions or corresponding with his precious clientele in his study nowadays anyway. They rarely ever read together like they used to when she was littler.

Zoe shook her head to clear away the negative thoughts and focused back on her upcoming education. Of all the things she was looking forward to, she was most excited about getting a wand. She'd always admired her father's wand, how it always seemed to be a part of him.

Of course, it was forbidden for her to even touch it; it was "not a toy" as her father said. So Zoe would look at it as it rested on the desk in his study and long for the day when she would be allowed to have her own—and the days were growing shorter. It wouldn't be long until she would be getting one and learning how to use it.

As the day stretched on, Zoe became oblivious to everything. She was much too engrossed in her fantasy. She had started to brandish a thin, underdeveloped root she'd dug up as if it was her very own wand. It was a bit short and flimsy, but nonetheless effective. She would point it at the dirt and was quite surprised when tiny explosions occurred in the soil with each wave. It was exciting to see and Zoe thought she could feel her magic coursing through her as she tried to make each blast bigger than the last.

She pretended she was dueling with Dark wizards as she ducked behind a stack of giant terracotta pots and rolled out of the way of the invisible curses that were fired at her. She shot some right back and Zoe imagined she'd taken down several of the evil wizards and witches all on her own. Next, she was using her brand new wand to control an enormous dragon. The animal blasted a jet of fire at her, but Zoe Snape was the best dragon tamer there was and she simply rolled out of the way before shooting a powerful stream of water at the beast, backing it into submission.

It was strange when she suddenly awoke, squinting toward the glass ceiling, to find her father scowling down on her lying in the dirt, the hem of his long, black outer robes tickling her arm. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep. As she sat up, he glanced over into the bushel basket and frowned. Zoe imagined he was probably not going to be very impressed with the four roots she'd managed to obtain so far.

"I see you've been disregarding your duties without my vigilant supervision," he drawled blandly. "Tell me, if you haven't been doing as you were told— what _have_ you been doing in here all day?"

Zoe guiltily eyed the thin root lying discarded on the ground next to her. "Nothing," she mumbled as she stood, patting the loose dirt off her jeans and apron.

"That is quite obvious," her father responded.

Zoe ignored him, frowning inquisitively. "I thought you weren't coming back until the afternoon? I haven't even had lunch yet."

Her father raised an eyebrow at her and pointed toward the workbench a few yards away and Zoe could see a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water set there. She glimpsed down to her watch and saw that it was a few minutes past two o'clock in the afternoon.

"The way I understand it, Ollie brought you your lunch over two hours ago, but you were far too absorbed in fantasy play to acknowledge her presence," her father said as he knelt down to examine the dirt under his feet. He reached out and touched the ground then wrinkled his forehead.

"What caused these holes in the soil? Were these here when you entered the greenhouse this morning?"

For a long moment, Zoe seriously considered lying to her father and telling him she had no idea what had happened to the dirt; to make him have to study the cause of the mysterious, explosive soil. Then at least he would be spending time with her during her punishment.

Then again, she figured she was probably in enough trouble and better stick to the truth.

"Er…not exactly," she said.

Her father looked up at her, annoyed. "_How_, exactly?"

Zoe shuffled her feet. "I, er, I sort of…blasted the holes into the soil."

"Blasted them? How did you do that?"

Zoe bit her lip and stared at her shoes before cautiously pointing to the root at her father's feet. He looked down and picked it up, examining it curiously.

"You used _this_ to blast these individual holes into the soil?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Yes. I was pretending it was a wand."

She looked back into her father's face to gauge his reaction. She was certain he was going to start yelling for not keeping with her punishment for the day and for disobeying him once again. He narrowed his eyes at her, considering her, and she instinctually shied away from the impending reprimand. However, he merely smirked and stood, tossing the root into the basket with the others.

"As of tomorrow, you won't need to pretend with ginger roots, you will have your own wand to wield. But you must promise me you'll stay away from the soil in the conservatory; direct magic can disrupt the natural photosynthesis cycle."

Zoe's jaw dropped. Had he really said that tomorrow she was getting a wand? "I—" she began. "Yes, sir. I will, definitely."

Her father nodded then turned and started to walk away.

"Wait," Zoe said, rushing forward to catch up to him. "So we're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow for _all_ of my supplies?"

Her father turned around halfway and looked at her. "Obviously we are not going to make several trips. I think one will suffice in obtaining everything you need for school."

"But— what about my punishment? Don't I have another week of work in the greenhouse?"

Her father raised a single eyebrow. "If you would prefer to stay here, I'm sure I could find some herbs that need cutting…"

"No!" Zoe said, a little more exuberantly than was probably necessary.

Her father nodded. "Then consider your punishment suspended indefinitely—pending appropriate behavior whilst in London, of course."

"I'll behave, I promise," Zoe stated, crossing her heart. Her father nodded once more and Zoe felt an instant wave of fondness and gratitude overcome her. She bounded forward and threw her arms around her father's waist, startling him. "Thank you so much, Papa."

Her father looked down on her and briefly patted the back of her head. "You're welcome." He then grasped both of her upper arms in either hand and stepped back from her. "Your punishment ceases tomorrow so I want to see more roots in that basket before dinner."

Then he turned and swept out of the conservatory.

Zoe watched him go but quickly turned back to the expanse of soil, a renewed sense of urgency to her task. Yes, she was still annoyed that she had to continue in the dirt until dinner, but she would be spending tomorrow being fitted for new robes and looking through books and buying a wand. She couldn't be happier with how her day had turned out.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Please review! <em>**_**If you don't, I can only assume... well, I don't assume much. But I LOVE reviews! You know who else does? Queen Elizabeth. Yep. I read that somewhere...**_


	4. Books, Quills, Parchment and Griffins

**_Whether you're celebrating a holiday today or not, I thought a new chapter would be a nice treat for everyone on this fine Sunday morning (well, morning for me anyway)._**

**_This chapter is nearly twice as long as earlier chapters. I hope you don't mind..._**

**_Please enjoy and have a wonderful day!_**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>Books, Quills, Parchment and Griffins<strong>

Zoe awoke very early the next day. Despite all of her trying, she just couldn't sleep any longer and she was growing restless lying in bed waiting for the sun to rise and her exciting day to begin. She therefore rose quietly and tiptoed down the stairs to take a shower.

When she returned to her room to slowly dress, the first bit of bright sunlight had just started to make its way over the treetops across the river and into her bedroom window. Zoe could already tell it was going to be a beautiful, but humid day. She therefore chose an airy, knee-length, patterned skirt and a light-blue shirt to wear before throwing a plain, gray wizard's robe over the ensemble, allowing it to flap open. She slipped into a pair of white sandals and once more descended the stairs as quietly as she could.

When she entered the kitchen two floors below, however, she found her father already sitting at the table sipping from a coffee mug and reading _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_. He was also freshly showered and Zoe smirked when she saw him in his normal black frock coat and trousers. She couldn't understand how he didn't keel over with heat exhaustion in those clothes in the middle of the summer.

He lowered the newspaper and looked up at his daughter standing in the doorway. He picked his wand up off the table and with one wave in her direction, Zoe felt her damp hair dry instantly. She grinned at her father and walked to the table to sit down.

"Thanks," she said, grabbing for a piece of dry toast. "I can't wait to learn that one."

Her father nodded slightly in acknowledgement and went back to his newspaper. Zoe nibbled on her toast and fidgeted, tapping her feet on the ground. After a few moments, her father put down his newspaper once more.

"Must you begin every day by irritating me?" he asked, looking down at her restless feet. "Stop fidgeting so."

Zoe stopped immediately. "Sorry. I'm just…excited, I guess."

"I see," her father responded. "Although, I surmised as much by your pre-dawn shower."

Zoe flushed. "I tried to be quiet."

They sat silently for a little while as her father sipped his coffee and Zoe dug into the porridge Ollie set before her. When she had eaten her fill, she pushed the bowl away and swiveled in her chair in order to face her father fully.

"May we go to Diagon Alley now?" she asked apprehensively.

Her father turned his black eyes on her. "No. I have some brewing to do first."

Zoe's shoulders sagged and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips at his words. "Do you _have_ to?"

Her father immediately frowned, shooting her a warning glance; he wouldn't tolerate the whining and insolence. Zoe averted her eyes from his reproachful gaze and sat back in her chair, pouting. When her father spoke, his tone was much kinder than she expected it to be.

"The shops in Diagon Alley will not yet be open, Zoe. You will only have to wait a few hours."

Zoe nodded, but she didn't look back up to her father. She didn't _want_ to wait any longer.

* * *

><p>It was clear that Zoe preferred to sulk rather than have a conversation over breakfast, therefore Severus stood from his chair to make his way toward the cellar. He opened the door leading down into his potions laboratory and glanced back to his daughter still moping in her chair at the kitchen table.<p>

No doubt, she was laboring under the impression that he was keeping her from starting her exciting day now, but he could hardly control when the shop owners opened their doors. Shaking his head, he began his descent into the cellar. He understood her excitement—more than she would ever imagine—but she would need to be patient.

* * *

><p>Nearing lunchtime, Zoe looked up from the book she had been reading in the enormous papasan chair in her bedroom at the sound of boots slowly climbing the stairs. As her father came up into her room, she scowled sourly at him. He narrowed his eyes and frowned back.<p>

"That doesn't even vaguely resemble the face of a girl fresh off a lengthy punishment and wanting to go into the city today." He turned away as if to go back down the stairs. "Perhaps I'll just go and brew another potion to give you adequate time to adjust your attitude."

"Wait!" Her father turned back to her and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

Zoe looked away and took a deep breath. She was certain he would follow through with his threat if she didn't comply. He may even decide to have Ollie gather Zoe's supplies if he thought she was being too childish for a public outing. Calming her ire, she turned back to face her father.

"I'll be good, I swear."

"Splendid," he stated dully, moving to the side and gesturing for her to come along then.

Zoe rose and made her way to the stairs, her father following in her wake.

"How are we getting there?" she asked.

"Would you care for a spot of lunch in The Leaky Cauldron first?"

Zoe spun around and stopped in the corridor on the first floor. She stared up at her father, perplexed. He was normally so frugal with his money. Zoe was surprised that on a day when he would most likely be dropping dozens of Galleons to prepare her for school, that he would also allow them to eat at the pub.

"Really?" she asked.

He looked back at her with an expression that clearly stated that if he hadn't meant it, he wouldn't have asked.

"Of course! That would be brilliant!"

Her father nodded and resumed his path towards the next stairwell.

"We shall travel by Floo, then, and enter the Alley from the pub," he said.

* * *

><p>Much to her father's chagrin, Zoe found it extremely difficult to sit still and eat her fish and chips. There was so much bustle going on around her that she could hardly contain her excitement. Once they had entered into the main area of the inn from the Floo, her father had immediately grasped Zoe's shoulder and directed her to a booth at the far end of the dining area, making her sit with her back to the door. She could see the annoyed look that crossed his face every time the bell above the door rang and Zoe swiveled around to see who was coming into the pub. She couldn't help it; there were so many interesting people here.<p>

Of course, Zoe had been into The Leaky Cauldron and on Diagon Alley before, but never had they stayed to eat at the pub. When they entered into the market on the rare occasions he allowed her to tag along with him, her father always had specific shops to go to and he was always adamant that she not wander away or linger at shop fronts.

However, Zoe knew that today was for her and she intended to make the best of it. She looked around excitedly as the bell over the door once more chimed and watched as two old witches entered. One was tall and one was short and round but they were wearing the exact same turquoise robes and each had about a dozen gold rings around each of their wrists.

Zoe grinned before she realized her father was rapping his knuckles on the table next to her plate in order to gain her attention. She turned back to face him.

"Eat. I do not wish for this to be an all-day affair," he said.

Zoe did as she was told and took another bite of her fish. After swallowing, she looked up to her father who had finished his lunch several minutes before and was now watching her slowly consume her food. "Where are we going first?"

"Gringotts."

"Then where?" she asked. After all, she had seen the goblins and her father's vault before; that was not going to be exciting.

"Probably Flourish and Blotts for your books."

Zoe nodded. "Then where?"

Her father narrowed his eyes at her. "Ollivander's will be the last stop of the day, if that is what you are asking."

Zoe fidgeted and picked at her fish. "Why can't we go there first?"

Her father stared at her for a moment, and then sighed. "Because I wish for you to be able to focus on obtaining your other supplies. There is no doubt in my mind that once your wand has chosen you, all other decisions will become little more than after thoughts."

"But what if my wand gets tired of waiting on me and chooses someone else? What if I miss out on the best wand because we decided to get everything else first?"

Her father shook his head. "That is unlikely. However, if you are truly that worried about it, perhaps you should stop jabbering and finish your lunch. The sooner we buy the rest of your supplies, the sooner we can go to Ollivander's."

Zoe smiled then pushed her plate away. "I'm finished." She'd only eaten about half her lunch, but she was too excited to eat.

* * *

><p>Gringotts had been as boring as she had expected and taken entirely too long in Zoe's opinion. Over half an hour later, she finally stepped back out into the sun and looked down the bustling street that was Diagon Alley. She rushed down the steps of the bank and started to walk briskly toward Flourish and Blotts when a hand grasped her arm, halting her forward movement. She looked up into her father's stern face.<p>

"As always, you are to stay with me. No wandering about. Is that clear?"

Zoe looked wistfully down the street. She wasn't a baby. Why didn't he trust her to poke about on her own? She had already swore to him that she would be good and not get into trouble.

"Zoe…" her father said warningly.

"Yes, sir," Zoe grumbled.

He let go of her arm and started toward the bookshop as well, Zoe trudging behind him.

The bookshop had been very interesting. Although he had gone directly to the witch behind the counter and handed Zoe's book list over instead of letting her find the texts herself, her father had allowed her to walk between the aisles and slowly peruse the titles for supplemental works she would like to take to school with her. After only fifteen minutes, she joined him at the counter with a stack of six books. He took each one individually in his hands and read the titles. The first three tomes got through his inspection without incident—one on Charms and two dealing with the preparation of potions ingredients, both plant and animal—but those weren't the ones Zoe worried about. The next one, _Broom Models of the Twenty-First Century_, he immediately handed back to the shop woman.

"No," her father said to her as he handed it across the counter. Zoe shrugged. At least she'd tried.

Next, her father examined _Curses and Countercurses_ by Vindictus Viridian. He eyed her suspiciously.

"I have this one in my study."

Zoe's eyes grew wider with excitement. "You do?"

Her father nodded. "Yes, and perhaps when you are a seventh year, I will allow you to read it." He turned to the shop witch, ignoring Zoe's sour glare. "You may take this one back as well."

He then looked down at the final book on the counter and frowned. Picking up _The Beginning Dueler's Guide to Hexes, Jinxes, Curses and More: All the Spells and Strategies You Need to Take Down Your Opponents_ by Ares Bogg, he turned to face his daughter.

"Is this supposed to be a joke?"

Zoe bit her lip. "No. I thought it might be…useful."

"Useful for what?"

"For… you know… dueling."

"Do you expect to be dueling often as a first year?"

Zoe shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, I can assure you, you most certainly will _not_ be even if such things were allowed at Hogwarts."

"How do you—"

"No," her father said authoritatively.

"But what if—"

"Do _not_ argue with me," he said, his tone a warning against further dispute, before turning to separate the book from the pile of approved tomes and adding them to her required school texts. Zoe frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. She petulantly kicked the counter in anger but then quickly looked up to her father with wide eyes. He hadn't noticed and she was glad of it for she knew from experience that to throw a tantrum would result in an automatic end to their outing and a long, stern lecture once they were home.

Her father paid the woman after she wrapped Zoe's books up in brown paper and tied them together. He took out his wand and shrunk the parcel before handing it to Zoe to put in the pocket of her robes.

"Do not lose those."

"I won't," Zoe said, growing more aggravated with her father by the second.

The next stop they made was to Madam Malkin's for Zoe's school robes. As the seamstress pinned the plain black school robes to the correct length, Zoe's father looked on from a chair next to the door, but didn't say anything.

"Are you anxious to find out which house you will be in when you get to Hogwarts?" the witch suddenly asked, looking up at Zoe from the floor.

Zoe hadn't really thought about it. She didn't really know what any of the houses truly were. Minerva had told her a little about the different attributes: Gryffindors were brave, Ravenclaws were smart, Hufflepuffs were loyal and Slytherins were ambitious. But Zoe felt that she was at least partially all of those things. Truthfully, she had no idea which house she belonged in and she wasn't exactly anxious to be in a specific one. She looked to her father whose face was as impassive as ever. She didn't even know if he cared which house she was Sorted into. Zoe looked back to the seamstress.

"Er, I don't know. My godmother was a Gryffindor, but Papa was in Slytherin."

The witch nodded pleasantly. "That's quite the mix. What House was your mother in, dear?"

Zoe saw, out of the corner of her eye, her father's head whip up to look at her as he leaned forward in his chair. The question had obviously startled him and he was anxious to hear her response or otherwise reprimand the witch for asking such an insensitive question—as if the woman should have known better. Zoe thought for a moment and decided to stick to the truth.

"My mother was a Muggle. She died. But I don't think she would have minded which House I got sorted in to," Zoe said, looking back to her father who nodded ever so slightly and sat back once more.

When they left the shop on their way to the apothecary for her potions supplies, Zoe slipped her hand into her father's and looked up at him.

"Papa?"

He continued to walk, weaving his way in and out of the crowd, but looked down at Zoe briefly and squeezed her hand slightly. She took that as a cue that she had his attention.

"Which house do you think I should try to get sorted in to?" she asked.

Her father glanced down at her again.

"It does not work that way. The Sorting Hat knows your mind and places you where you belong. It is not a matter of trying or not trying."

"Oh. Well, do you…_care_ which house I get in to?" she asked, feeling nervous all of a sudden.

Her father stopped in the middle of the pavement and looked down at Zoe critically. Zoe couldn't really tell what he was thinking.

"The house in which you are sorted is…insignificant. I expect you to be a diligent student no matter where you are placed. Your studies are what are important."

Zoe nodded but felt that, though her father said he didn't care, she bet he did, but she didn't push the issue further. For now, anyway, she would do all she could to be a good student for him and, for the moment, she wouldn't worry about being Sorted.

As they entered into Constantine's Apothecary, Zoe let go of her father's hand and started to walk around the shelves along the wall as he approached the shop owner at the back. This was a shop she had been in several times before, of course, but all the preserved specimens, powders and herbs that could be used to make powerful elixirs and potions always fascinated her. As she began to look curiously at the array of cauldrons, the apothecary addressed her father.

"Ah, Mr. Snape! How very nice to see you back. And I see you've brought the young miss with you. Lovely."

"Good afternoon," her father responded.

"Will you be needing your usual order today? I can have it ready in a few minutes."

Zoe looked over at the two men. "No, thank you, I am currently well-supplied," her father said. "I am actually here for a Hogwarts first year kit including a pewter cauldron and scales."

Zoe saw the old apothecary look at her from around her father and smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Ah, yes, I had wondered when that enchanting child of yours would be beginning school. No doubt she's been having a wonderful day gathering her supplies for the upcoming term?"

"Indeed, she has," Zoe heard her father say, "But that _enchanting_ _child_ will find her day cut short if she even _thinks_ about touching those pickled dragon's eyes."

Zoe gasped and immediately pulled her hand away from the surface of the brine over which she had been hovering. She hadn't even realized her father was watching her. She looked sheepishly at him and put her hands behind her back before strolling over to stand next to him at the counter. He watched her sternly then turned back to address the amused shopkeeper.

"I would like the goblin-made scales, please, the normal kit scales are not nearly as accurate, though the basalt mortar and pestle will do for now—I can always upgrade her to a marble one later. Add a few extra vials to the order as well—crystal only—and double the supplies," he requested. "I don't know what sort of stores the current Potions Master has and I would like her to have everything she needs."

"Of course, Mr. Snape, that won't be a problem. Only the best potion supplies for a potioneer's daughter."

Zoe watched as the old man started to walk about the shop, gathering the various supplies she would need for her first year of school. As he laid out a set of scales, her eyes settled on a medium-sized, solid gold cauldron on a shelf behind the counter and she tugged at the sleeve of her father's robes. Once she had gained his attention, she pointed at it.

"Can I have _that_ cauldron for school?"

Her father glanced briefly up in the direction Zoe pointed. "Do you have eight hundred and sixty Galleons?" he asked.

"No," Zoe said.

"Then that is your answer," he responded tersely then went back to examining the supplies and tools the apothecary continued to stack upon the counter.

Zoe frowned and propped her arm up on the counter, resting her head against her hand. Seeing as she couldn't touch anything and her father was only allowing her to get regular supplies, she was bored already.

"I heard a rumor just the other day that you would be returning to Hogwarts School. Shall I change my salutation back to Professor?" the shop owner suddenly asked, smiling broadly toward Zoe's father who sighed heavily.

"Your information is correct. I will be taking on the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Ah, Defense. Splendid. It's good to know those students will finally be gaining real knowledge from someone who has actually seen some action in the field. That August Pounder's a nice bloke, but he doesn't hold a candle to a real-life war hero—"

"Yes," Zoe's father cut the old man off as Zoe's elbow fell clumsily off the counter with surprise and her eyes widened at the information the apothecary had just imparted.

Her father was a war hero? No, he couldn't be. He brewed potions for St. Mungo's and private vendors. He wrote for potions journals and textbooks. Now he was going to be a school professor. Hero? Zoe most certainly hadn't heard _that_ before.

"I am planning a rigorous curriculum and schedule," her father elaborated.

The old man eyed her father quizzically and looked tensely down at Zoe who gazed back just as perplexed. What was the apothecary talking about?

"Ah, yes, of course," he said nervously. "Well, I'll just finish up this order for you."

Zoe's father nodded politely, but her head was spinning. She'd known there had been a war not long before she was born, but she didn't know her father had been involved, much less that he had contributed so much to gain the distinction of _hero_. Perhaps the apothecary had been mistaken? But then, why had her father acted as if he didn't want the old man to say any more? There was something going on, but Zoe didn't get the chance to worry much about it then for, as soon as her order was ready, her father handed the shrunken packages to her and ushered her out of the shop.

"Papa, what was Mr. Constantine talking about?" she asked curiously once they were back out on the street.

"Nothing that concerns you," he snapped harshly and Zoe didn't dare inquire any further.

After that, they spent very little time buying her telescope and stationery. Zoe was most displeased when her father refused to spend money on color-change ink _("A ridiculous waste of six sickles and I refuse to mark essays that are written in every color of the rainbow"_) or spelling-correction quills _("If you don't believe your spelling is up to scratch, perhaps we need to spend the rest of the summer working on it?"_) opting instead for plain, boring parchment and standard quills with black ink. She was even more upset when he wouldn't allow her to even step foot inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"I just wanted to look around," she grumbled moodily after her father had abruptly pulled her from a group of children gathered around the shop window where tiny firecrackers continuously burst over a large, colorful display and a sign that read:

_**Number One Best-Seller: Skiving Snackboxes  
><strong>__**Puking Pastilles – Five New Flavors!  
><strong>__**Just In Time for The Journey Back to Hogwarts!**_

"Yes, I'm sure you wouldn't have absolutely _begged_ me to buy you some worthless contraption that will only get you into trouble," her father mocked. "…a feat of which you do quite well on your own without the assistance of…'wheezes'."

"You never let me have any fun," Zoe pouted.

Her father looked down on her and smirked. "Yes, that is my sole purpose in life: to make sure _you_ don't have any fun." Then he walked away in the direction of Ollivander's Wand Shop.

"I bet it is," Zoe mumbled, making sure that her father wouldn't hear her, before jogging to catch up to him.

Just a few shops down from the wandmaker, they happened upon the last person Zoe wanted to see on her special outing.

Scorpius Malfoy had been standing with his mother outside of Eyelops Owl Emporium, gazing in at the array of birds when he had spotted Zoe and her father. He had instantly turned away from the shop and strode up the pavement toward them.

Zoe groaned inwardly, knowing that a meeting was inevitable.

"Hello, Uncle Severus," Scorpius said, stopping in front of the Snapes. He ignored her presence completely. Zoe narrowed her eyes at the boy as Mrs. Malfoy exchanged pleasantries with her father.

"How has your day been, Scorpius?" Zoe's father asked.

"It's been great! Mum and Dad said that I could pick out an owl for my birthday next week, so Mum and I were going to look inside Eyelops when we saw you."

"Well, _I_ get to start at _Hogwarts_ for _my_ birthday this year," Zoe stated loudly, suddenly feeling the need to one-up her rival.

Her father flicked her shoulder with his finger then and glared at her, indicating that he didn't approve of her immodest attitude. Zoe grimaced as she rubbed the sting from her skin.

"That's not true," Scorpius claimed. "You're not eleven yet."

Zoe opened her mouth to respond, but her father stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He looked down at his godson.

"Zoe has, indeed, been accepted at Hogwarts a year ahead of time," he said conversationally, more to Mrs. Malfoy than Scorpius. "The Governors and Headmistress approved the early start."

"That's wonderful for you, Zoe. I'm certain you will do very well at Hogwarts," Mrs. Malfoy said, smiling kindly as she reached out and gave Zoe an encouraging shoulder squeeze.

"Thank you," Zoe said.

"But that isn't fair!" Scorpius whined. "How come she gets to go early?"

"Because she was accepted early, darling," Mrs. Malfoy attempted to console her son, pushing his blonde fringe away from his forehead affectionately, smoothing his hair. "It is a great honor. I think you should congratulate her on her accomplishment, don't you?"

Mrs. Malfoy was clearly giving Scorpius very little choice in the matter and the scowl upon his face made it very clear that he would rather drink a teacupful of Stinksap than congratulate Zoe. However, with a slight nudge from his mother, he looked at Zoe sourly.

"Congratulations," he said, barely audibly.

"Thanks," Zoe said, also needing a nudge from her own father in order to get the word out.

As the two families departed each other's company, Zoe's father shook his head.

"Will it ever be possible for the two of you to at least _feign_ civility with each other?" he asked, his tone annoyed.

Zoe merely shrugged. She doubted her and Scorpius would ever get along because he was coddled, self-centered prat, but she didn't feel that that was the answer her father wanted to hear. It was best to just stay quiet.

"Your boast was unnecessary and uncalled for," he scolded, but then said nothing more on the matter as he started toward Ollivander's once more.

She wanted to remain in an unpleasant mood for a while, but the excitement of finally getting her wand kept her from feeling any more annoyance with Scorpius Malfoy or any more disdain toward her father's unfailing strictness for this was the moment she had been waiting for all day.

* * *

><p>Severus opened the door to Ollivander's and rolled his eyes as Zoe eagerly pushed past him in her haste to get into the shop. He thought of reprimanding her, but upon seeing the gleam of excitement and awe in her dark blue eyes as they fell upon the shelves containing hundreds upon hundreds of wands, he decided against it. Who was he to dispel her enthusiasm? After all, she had been looking forward to this for the better part of…well, her entire life and she was finally here.<p>

The truth of the matter was that Severus was also rather intrigued by what sort of wand his daughter would be receiving and was anxious for her to begin testing them out. One could tell a lot about a witch or wizard based on the sort of wand that chose them. It harkened back to the conversation outside Madam Malkin's when she had asked him about which house he wanted her to be in and, though he told her he wouldn't mind which one she was placed in as long as she was a good student, he really did care. He certainly didn't know how he would react if Zoe were to be placed in Gryffindor where the brawn outweighed the brains or even in Hufflepuff where everyone who was nobody was placed. He would still love her, of course, and support her, but Slytherin was his hope. She would be challenged there and it would make him proud to see her dressed in his own house colors. However, Severus supposed Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad either. He certainly felt she possessed the intelligence even if her studying habits left a bit to be desired.

He watched as Zoe walked along the outside rim of the shop simply staring at the intricate boxes stuffed into the shelves. She seemed completely mesmerized and he smirked inwardly as he conjured a wooden chair and sat down in it, crossing his right leg over his left to wait. He knew Mr. Ollivander preferred to make an entrance for the children and had no doubt that the man was aware of their presence in his shop.

Zoe had stopped next to one set of shelves and had lifted her hand up to touch the deep green velvet inlaid upon the wood of one particular box. Severus was about to tell her not to touch when Mr. Ollivander suddenly whirred into existence right next to Severus's very stunned daughter and grabbed her wrist.

"No, that one is not right for you at all, my dear," the man said airily—wheezing, really. "Not nearly powerful enough."

His daughter's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head in surprise as the old man turned to face Severus.

"No doubt she gets her inquisitive nature from you, Professor, but even you knew not to touch wands that hadn't been placed in your hand by me when you first came in."

Severus frowned at the ancient wandmaker. If only the man knew how exceptionally foolhardy his daughter could be, he wouldn't be criticizing Severus's parenting.

"I assure you, Ollivander, she will give you no trouble or I will personally remove her from your premises," Severus drawled, gazing sternly at his daughter across the shop. She at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander, sir. I won't touch anything," she said, looking straight into the old man's eyes.

"Ah! There are some manners there. Well done, Professor!" Severus rolled his eyes. "Well," Ollivander began, releasing Zoe and then rubbing his hands together, "let's get started, shall we?"

He moved into the center of the room where there stood a small, low platform and waved toward Zoe to follow him. She averted her eyes cautiously from the old man and looked at her father. Severus knew she was nonverbally asking whether she should follow the man, so he inclined his head slightly and Zoe, taking a visibly deep breath, walked over to stand on the platform. Severus noticed that she seemed anxious as she stepped up onto it. She was immediately bombarded with a tape flying about her head and body, taking measurements.

Mr. Ollivander watched curiously for a bit before turning once more to address Severus.

"Which is her wand arm?" he asked.

"I can answer that," Zoe snapped crossly as the measuring tape flew around her head.

"Zoe," Severus calmly warned, though he understood that the wandmaker could be thoroughly irksome.

A flush appeared on his daughter's cheeks at the reprimand as Ollivander turned toward her.

"I mean, I'm standing right here. You can ask me questions, sir," she stated sheepishly.

"Yes, as I predicted," said Ollivander, appraising the girl. "Boldly defensive, much like your father. Well, which is it then?"

Zoe scowled at the old man as Severus smirked.

"It's my right," she stated sourly.

Severus knew from experience that the old wandmaker was merely sizing his daughter up. No doubt, it would be easier to select the more likely wands for her if Ollivander knew that her wand was likely to reflect her personality.

"Gets that scowl from you too, Severus Snape." Ollivander turned briefly toward Severus before facing Zoe once more. "Horrid, awful expression, but you, young lady, should be happy you didn't inherit your father's nose. Sharp as the beak of a bird of prey, that is."

This time it was Severus's turn to scowl as Zoe tried to repress a giggle.

"Can you please get on with it, old man?" Severus snapped.

Ollivander hardly seemed to notice Severus's shortness as he snapped his fingers and the measuring tape disappeared from where it was measuring between Zoe's exposed toes. Several boxes started zooming toward them from various shelves around the room until there was a relatively large array stacked up in piles around where Zoe stood on the platform. Her eyes conveyed complete amazement and several times, she looked to Severus, beaming, to make sure he was paying attention to what was obviously the greatest thing she had ever experienced in her life. It was one more first for her that Severus would secretly cherish along with her first steps, her first signs of magic, and her first words.

"You, Miss Snape," Ollivander said, "come from very powerful wizarding stock."

"I do?" Zoe asked, truly intrigued and excited.

"Indeed," Ollivander replied. "Everyone knows of your father's exploits, of course…" Zoe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "…but I remember every wand I ever sold. I remember its components and I remember who received that wand. You, my dear, come from a long line of wands that contained dragon heartstrings. Therefore, we will begin there. Here, try this one out."

The man handed Zoe a straight, dark wand that contained runes etched along the side. From where he sat across the room, it looked very similar to Severus's own wand.

"Ten inches, ebony, dragon heartstring, nice and supple. Give it a wave, my dear."

Zoe stared at the wand then looked up at Mr. Ollivander before clutching the wand tightly and bringing it up. She had barely moved it before the entire shop began to rattle as if a minor earthquake were occurring.

"No, not that one," Ollivander said as he snatched it from Zoe. She looked momentarily crestfallen before the wandmaker replaced the one he had taken.

"Nine and a half inches, cherry, dragon heartstring, reasonably pliant."

A wave and the glass in the shop front window behind Severus imploded. Luckily, knowing to expect anything, he had cast a Shield Charm around himself before Ollivander had even taken out the likely wands. The old man looked exasperatedly at Severus.

"Powerful, yes, very powerful. I imagine she has quite the temper?"

Severus nodded, remembering his daughter's reaction to him wanting to send her to Beauxbatons. "Intolerable," he stated.

"Merlin, boy, has she inherited any of her mother's traits?"

Severus narrowed his eyes as he watched Ollivander give Zoe wand after wand. With each new wave, something in the room broke and by the time Zoe was on her twenty-eighth wand—ten and a half inches, yew, dragon heartstring, unyielding—and caused the small, rustic chandelier to come crashing to the floor, the minute shop looked like it had been hit by a very powerful cyclone. He could tell his daughter was becoming quite frustrated with the process by the way her eyes blazed and Severus knew it wouldn't be too long before things would begin exploding of their own accord as her magic spun out of control.

"Excuse me while I go to the back," Ollivander said. "There are some older models in there that may be suitable."

Upon the wandmaker's exit, Severus stood and approached his daughter who had collapsed onto the wooden platform. He needed to calm her before he could allow her to continue. As he approached, she looked up at him, frowning indignantly.

"None of these work!" she shouted at him in frustration.

"Zoe," he said as coolly as he could, "calm down. There are still hundreds of wands here."

"But Mr. Ollivander said I would probably have one like yours and all of my ancestors, but none of the dragon heartstring wands are working."

"That does not mean that your wand is not here." Severus knelt down so that he was more on an even level with his daughter and attempted to soften his tone. "Did you even think that, perhaps, you are more suited to what your mother would have had, had she been a witch?"

"But, Papa, she _wasn't_ a witch. How could Mr. Ollivander know what kind of wand she would have had?"

Severus could see Ollivander out of the corner of his eye waiting just behind a shelf with an armful of wand boxes. He was waiting for Severus to finish his conversation with his daughter. However, Severus knew that it could take several minutes to explain to Zoe about the intricacies of personality; how Zoe would have to somehow exhibit one of her mother's characteristics in order for Ollivander to know what kind of a wand Elizabeth may have had, had she been magical. In the end, he decided to keep it up to fate, so Severus took Zoe's hands in his and together they rose back to their feet.

"Be patient," he said simply. "I am certain your wand is here somewhere."

Zoe nodded but still looked upset as Ollivander bustled back into the room.

"Ah! Here we are! Let's just try a few of these."

So, the afternoon progressed. After Zoe had tried out over fifty wands, Severus would have been lying if he had said he wasn't concerned about her finding the right one. It was after she had turned Ollivander's hair purple trying out her sixty-fourth wand, that even the old man finally seemed thoroughly bewildered.

"Never in all my years have I had such a challenging client. Either you, girl, don't know what you want to be or—"

Ollivander seemed to have just thought of something, for he broke off and walked briskly to the back of the store. Zoe's eyes followed him, clearly confused by the old man's actions. Severus was also rather perplexed.

After only a few moments, however, Mr. Ollivander returned carrying only one box this time. It was made of a dark wood and ornately carved with what appeared to be unicorns and fairies—the images of myth rather than the actual creatures that inhabited the magical world. Zoe stared, wide-eyed, as Mr. Ollivander carefully slid the lid open and pushed back the green, velvet wrappings. Severus couldn't see it from where he was sitting, but he could tell the wand must have been highly impressive by the way Zoe's eyes lit up and the way Ollivander seemed to covet it. The old man looked up at Severus's daughter then.

"This wand has been in my collection for eighty-four years, my dear. It is, perhaps, the rarest and most exotic combination I have ever manufactured. However, seeing as how you _insist_ on being difficult..." Ollivander eyed Severus with an air of annoyance as if he was the root cause of this. Severus merely raised an eyebrow at the man. "…perhaps this is just the wand for you."

Slowly, Ollivander removed the wand from its wrappings and placed it in Zoe's eager, awestruck hand. Instantly, a wind rushed around the room, fluttering everyone's hair, though not a speck of dust from the debris scattering the shop was disturbed. Zoe seemed to emit a halo of phosphorescent greens, blues and reds around her and the end of the wand she held glowed white for a moment before emitting a brilliant show of similar colored sparks that arced up before falling to the floor and fading out. Severus watched as his daughter's face slowly grew an enormous smile. She knew this wand had chosen her. He couldn't help but smirk with pride.

"What is it made of?" Zoe asked politely though there was urgency to her question.

Ollivander pulled the wand from Zoe and held it in his hands. "It looks very much like polished ebony—not unlike your father's wand—but is actually composed of African Blackwood, very supple. It has a length of twelve and one half inches, but the core, now that is where the magic lies. You see, this wand contains two magical cores, both of the same animal: a feather and a hair. Do you know of an animal that has both feathers and fur?" Ollivander asked Zoe.

Zoe wrinkled her brow in concentration for several moments. She looked toward Severus and he could see that she knew the answer.

"A griffin!" she exclaimed.

"Indeed. A true symbol of strength, boldness and intelligence. An amalgamation of two powerful beasts, one that stalks the land and the other a regal predator of the skies."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. It's brilliant!" Zoe said taking the wand back as the old man handed it to her.

"You are quite welcome, my dear. Now," he looked over to catch Severus's eye as he began to shuffle Zoe towards the door. "It is time to discuss payment with your father. Perhaps you would like to take your new wand just outside the door there?"

Zoe barely nodded her head as she allowed herself to be pushed kindly out the door onto the cobblestones beyond, looking excitedly at her brand new wand.

"Don't wave it about, now. We wouldn't want the Ministry to swoop down on you for underage magic…," the old man warned before quickly shutting the door and turning to face Severus with a distinct frown upon his face.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

Ollivander shook his head as he walked resolutely past Severus to stand behind his tall counter. For some reason, Severus got the distinct impression that Mr. Ollivander was not very happy about having just sold that particular wand.

"That wand is very powerful, Professor, exceptionally so. I've never made another like it."

Severus scowled at the old man and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought wands were only as powerful as the witch or wizard who brandishes them. Surely you aren't telling me you have just allowed a ten-year-old little girl to be given a wand with exceptional powers all its own?"

"Do you not use your eyes, boy? Have you not raised that child?" Ollivander asked, ignoring Severus's disapproving stare. "That wand has a powerful core, oh yes, but it is doubly so because your child wields it."

"What are you talking about?" Severus spat.

"Many wands are good for specific areas of magic—Charms, Transfiguration—and their rigidity or lack thereof enables its user to perform better in those specific forms of magic. A witch or wizard's type of wand also tends to be a reflection of its owner's personality. Take your wand for example, ebony and dragon heartstring—or more specifically the heartstring of a Chilean Chameleon Dragon—very rigid. No doubt it came in handy for your…specific talents during the war: manipulation, secrecy, disillusionment and the like…" Ollivander paused as he looked past Severus toward Zoe on the front stoop, ignoring the younger wizard's resentful scowl.

"And?" Severus coerced, annoyed.

"That wand has no specificity. It will perform exceptionally in any area of magic. There are reasons I no longer manufacture wands from griffins, however. For one, rarely do they actually _choose_ a witch or wizard and the sacrifice I make to obtain the core parts no longer became viably worth the effort."

"More importantly, however, their magic is temperamental. It doesn't know what it wants; it's unstable, even. For example, it may emit a hex that it feels its owner intended—however fleetingly—rather than the hex that has been uttered from the owner's lips. Only someone with an extraordinary amount of internal magical ability and self-control can harness that kind of power. To be honest, I always imagined that wand would go to a grown wizard whose original wand had been damaged beyond repair or had changed its allegiance in battle—never to a child as a first wand. The fact that it chose your daughter speaks leaps and bounds. Am I right in my assessment that her abilities are already quite prevalent? More than normal for her age?"

"I'm unsure... I have seen the same outward effects exhibited from other children who were frightened or in a temper…"

"How old was she when she first made something explode?" Ollivander asked suddenly, waving off Severus's explanation.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Severus spat, his anger rising at the old man.

"Younger than eight?"

Severus couldn't help the look of bewilderment that crossed his features.

"I don't see—"

"Younger than five?" Ollivander pressed.

Severus sighed heavily, defeated. "She had just turned three. She was angry with me for leaving her with her godmother for the weekend. She reduced a very old and large stone artifact in Minerva McGonagall's home to dust."

"And did you suffer any ill effects from her outburst?"

Severus frowned. How did this old man seem to know so much about his daughter's disposition? "I felt like I had been electrocuted when I tried to discipline her for it. Needless to say, she…got away with her tantrum."

Ollivander nodded. "Yes, that is a very gifted little girl you have there, Professor. Has she ever shown any control over her magic?"

"I don't think—" Severus began before remembering the peculiar holes in the soil of his conservatory. "Yes, she successfully channeled her magic through a ginger root to blast holes into some soil. She was only playing, but I believe they were made intentionally. I've also seen controlled, wandless manipulation of small objects and plants."

Ollivander nodded as if Severus had just confirmed his suspicions. "Keep an eye on her," he said. "She'll be impulsive and experimental; it seems to come naturally to the owners of griffin wands. But I think it can be said that we should expect some very interesting magic from her in years to come."

The man turned away from Severus and started toward the back of his shop. "Ginger roots? I've never considered…"

Ollivander's voice died away and Severus was left there standing by himself. The old man hadn't even stayed around to make sure he was paid. Severus frowned as he pulled a large stack of Galleons from a pocket of his robes and laid it on the counter for Zoe's wand before turning quickly and sweeping from the shop, taking his daughter's hand as he exited onto the front stoop to march her back toward The Leaky Cauldron. Zoe didn't seem to mind being pulled along through the throngs of people and also hadn't seemed to notice her father's suddenly foul mood. For some reason what Ollivander had said had put him in a sour frame of mind and Severus no longer wanted to be anywhere near Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Everyone knows that the best Easter gift anyone could possibly receive is the gift of reviews. I'd even go so far as to say it's better than a chocolate bunny.<em>**


	5. Paternal Pangs, Magical Mischief

**_Hello again. I've been working on this chapter a bit and have finally gotten it to where I'm happy with it. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Severus, of course, is a tough one, but I found myself struggling with Zoe's ever-growing personality this time. However, I think my qualms and insecurities have passed for the time being. _  
><strong>

**_Enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>Paternal Pangs, Magical Mischief<strong>

When they had arrived home from Diagon Alley, Minerva had been in their sitting room waiting for them. Of course, Zoe always loved seeing her godmother, but that day, she had come bearing gifts in the form of Zoe's brand new steamer trunk.

It was quite beautiful, really—made from sturdy, dark wood and inlaid with dark, smooth leather on the side panels. The corners were protected with antique brass bumpers that matched the three clasps that held the lid closed. The top panel was inlaid with leather as well and hand-carved into that was Z-O-E. Also carved into the wood around the leather inlay were dozens of tiny daisies—Zoe's favorite flower.

Zoe had instantly adored it and that was before she had even opened it. The inside was so spacious that Zoe was certain all of her clothes, books, and supplies would be able to fit within the individual compartments and there would still be room to spare.

"Look here," Minerva had said, pointing to a small pocket attached to the inside of the lid.

Zoe touched it and felt a strange tingle in her hand. She instantly pulled away from it before looking up at her amused godmother.

"There," the Headmistress said, "Now it will only open for you."

"Really?" Zoe asked in amazement.

Minerva nodded. "That pocket has a special charm on it that will not only extend to fit whatever you wish to put in it, but it will also conceal any item from others."

Then Minerva had smiled at Zoe's father who was sitting in his armchair, watching them examine the trunk. He was wearing a decidedly disapproving frown.

"Every girl needs her secret treasures," Minerva stated.

Zoe, also looking to her father, had gotten the distinct impression that he would much prefer to know about all of Zoe's "treasures", but he hadn't commented either way.

"It's brilliant, Minerva. I love it," Zoe said, standing from where she had been kneeling next to her trunk on the floor. She gave her godmother a big hug. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, my dear," Minerva said, patting Zoe's back before pulling away from her. "Well? Where's that wand you've been going on about getting for Merlin knows how long?"

"Oh, yeah!" Zoe exclaimed, having forgotten about it during the excitement of seeing her trunk. She pulled it out of an inside pocket of her robes and held it up to the Headmistress who merely turned her head to examine it, but made no move to remove it from Zoe's hands.

"It's African Blackwood, even though it looks like ebony, like Papa's," Zoe explained, turning it about so that Minerva could see every inch of it. "And Mr. Ollivander said that the core is really exotic. It has a griffin feather _and_ a hair."

"Oh, a feather _and_ a hair," Minerva said indulgently. She seemed really impressed, Zoe thought, as she turned to give Zoe's father a significant look that Zoe didn't understand. "How…intriguing."

Zoe saw him look away from them briefly before locking eyes with Zoe.

"Zoe, please take your things up to your bedroom," he commanded quietly, not unkindly.

Zoe looked between her father and godmother twice, but decided against arguing because she didn't want to ruin her wonderful day by annoying her father now. Besides, it was clear that he wanted to talk to Minerva without her in the room. What the conversation could possibly entail, she had no idea. By her perspective, the day had been perfectly normal, aside from its exciting aspects.

She nodded once and gathered up her still-shrunken packages into her arms. She left her trunk in its place on the sitting room floor—her father would most likely carry it up to her later when he was ready to enlarge her supplies—and departed up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"I take it you are aware of the temperamental nature of a wand with two cores?" Minerva asked Severus once her goddaughter had exited the sitting room.<p>

Severus could do nothing but nod slowly until the overwhelming anxiety he had been feeling was quashed behind a slight Occlumency barrier.

"Had it not taken half the day and nearly a hundred wands just to get one that didn't shatter something once placed in her hand, I may have considered telling Ollivander to find another for her," Severus conceded once he'd found his voice. "As if I needed another bloody thing to burden my thoughts with."

"You don't know that it will give her trouble for sure," Minerva attempted to placate, taking a seat on the sofa. "She could surprise you, you know; she could harness that power far better than you can even imagine."

Severus scowled. "She's only ten years old and far from being the most diligent of pupils."

"She's almost eleven and, though you're right that she can be quite the daydreamer—like her father was at her age—she's also intelligent like him. I have nothing but confidence that she will flourish."

Severus rolled his eyes. Minerva was obviously not willing to take this nearly as serious as he was.

"Ollivander said she was likely to be impulsive, experimental," he said then, hoping he could get the witch to share in his qualms on this issue.

"Ollivander only told you the _typical_ characteristics associated with witches or wizards who possess griffin wands. Honestly, Severus, I feel you are fretting over small things," Minerva chided. "Your daughter has just experienced her first trip to Diagon Alley to gather her supplies for her first year at Hogwarts. Do you not feel any pride or happiness in that?"

The question gave Severus pause and, seemingly unconsciously, he closed his eyes and allowed the images of Zoe's face lighting up with excitement flood over him. He played over that moment when her wand had chosen her again and again in his mind and, the more he thought about her complete delight, the less apprehensive he became of the implications her new wand carried with it. After all, she was going to Hogwarts to learn to control her magic, to harness whatever powers she may possess. Who was to say that she wouldn't wield that wand effortlessly? Perhaps he _was_ worrying fruitlessly…

He sighed and opened his eyes to gaze at Minerva.

"She wanted me to buy her a solid gold cauldron and a book on dueling," he stated then and immediately saw the amusement in the witch's eyes.

"As I said, she's her father's daughter," Minerva said dryly.

Severus couldn't help the smirk that took over his features.

* * *

><p>Since their return from Diagon Alley, Zoe had reconfigured her trunk twice, placing everything inside that she intended to take to Hogwarts with her. Of course, she'd had to take several items of clothing out again simply so she would have things to wear in the fortnight leading up to her departure for school.<p>

Every day, in addition to her typical schooling with her father (which Zoe was slightly annoyed that she had to continue), she was allowed to spend up to an hour simply reading from her new textbooks, even despite her father adding a new subject to her curriculum—magical theory—which he said was highly important, but was only touched on briefly in all the subjects at Hogwarts. She wasn't required to do any work in her new, magical subjects or discuss them with her father unless she wanted to. She figured she'd have plenty of time to ask her new teachers questions once she'd gotten to school, though, so she refrained from pestering her father, who she knew was working on his lesson plans during her prescribed study times.

Nearly every night after her father had sent her to bed, however, Zoe took out one of her schoolbooks—typically _The Standard Book of Spells_—and her wand to try out a few of the incantations.

Of course, her father had told her that she was not to do any magic outside of school. Then again, the dire consequences he had threatened her with should he catch her disobeying him had seemed rather feeble and half-hearted. Therefore, although she had a feeling that he cared very little whether she was practicing—as long as she was careful—she also didn't want to be caught. Therefore, she always practiced under her blankets at night using a battery-powered, Muggle torch that she'd found in a drawer of her father's wardrobe as a light source.

That night, she intended to try out levitation.

She'd taken a few items of various weights under her quilt with her—a knut, a paperclip, one of her hair ribbons and a simple scrap of parchment.

"_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_," she whispered slowly to herself, smoothing down the page of her crisp, new textbook.

She lifted her wand and did the swish and flick motion that the book indicated.

Feeling the motion seemed correct, she tried it on the piece of parchment while incanting the charm at the same time. The parchment shuddered a bit on the mattress, but didn't rise into the air as she had hoped.

Zoe frowned, but was not discouraged and she quickly tried again. This time, the spell worked as she had wanted with the parchment rising several inches off the bed and hovering there.

Elated, Zoe quickly went about trying to levitate the other objects. Each item required a bit more concentration than the last, but she was successful with all of them.

It was as Zoe had attempted to levitate both the knut and paperclip at the same time—successfully—that it occurred to her that she vaguely remembered doing this before.

She bit her lip and laid her wand down beside her. She separated the knut from the rest of the items and stared at it for a moment.

She closed her eyes.

The memories were so faint at first that she couldn't even be sure that they were real. Then there was something…

_Pastels hovering above the sitting room rug... Toast rising off her plate at the breakfast table… A plush giraffe floating down from the tall shelf her father had placed it on as a lesson to Zoe to pick up her toys…_

Yes, she'd done this before—long before she'd gotten her wand.

When Zoe opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that the small, bronze coin was floating at eye level in front of her face. Of course, as she realized it, whatever concentration she had apparently possessed left her and the knut fell into her lap. She placed it back in front of her, curious as to whether she could wandlessly levitate it when she was actually thinking about it.

Zoe wrinkled her brow and put her hand—palm down—over the knut. Though she couldn't recall ever using her hands with her accidental magic, it seemed like the thing to do now.

"_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_," she whispered and her eyes widened when the coin zoomed instantly into her palm. In fact, the collision was rather painful and made Zoe wince, gritting her teeth to keep from calling out.

Rubbing the sting out of her palm, but excited at her ability and wondering only briefly if she should show her father, Zoe vowed to continue to practice that skill some more once she began school.

She flipped the page in her Charms book then to find _Lumos_.

She read over the new spell:

_In order to produce a small, contained, torch-type light, incant _Lumos_ with a simple, downward jerk of the wrist. The tip of the wand will become illuminated._

Nodding to herself in understanding, she took up her wand once more.

"_Lumos_," she whispered and, instantly, her entire bedroom was engulfed in a flash of light so near blinding that Zoe briefly mused that if an aeroplane had been flying overhead, it probably could have seen the light and landed safely by it.

As the illumination at the tip of her wand slowly receded, Zoe's heart began to pound a little less from the surprise. She was so engrossed as she reread what kind of light was supposed to be produced by the simple spell, that she didn't hear the hastened footsteps across the first floor landing. However, she did hear when the door at the bottom of the stairwell to her bedroom opened.

"Put the wand away and go to sleep," her father's stern voice called up the stairs.

Zoe gasped and pulled herself out from beneath her blankets to lie normally. She didn't respond and, eventually, her door slowly closed and she sighed in relief—though she knew she was likely to be scolded come the morning.

As she pulled her wand out from beneath her quilt to put it in its place on her bedside table, her packed trunk sitting in the middle of the floor caught her eye. Curious whether she could levitate something heavier than a knut, she hesitated only a moment before pointing her wand at the trunk and incanting the familiar spell.

She had to concentrate very hard and it was difficult to see in the darkness, but eventually she saw the trunk rise and hover about an inch above the floor.

As the exhilaration swept over her, she lost concentration, causing the trunk to drop to the floor with a loud _thud_. Almost instantly, the attic door swung open again.

"I will not tell you again, young lady," her father said from below. "You should have been asleep over an hour ago. If it's too tempting, then your wand can remain in my possession until you board the train."

Again, Zoe didn't respond, hoping she could fool him into thinking she was asleep and had merely imagined the ruckus on the level above him.

When she heard footsteps begin up the stairs, however, she panicked.

"Yes, sir. I'll go to sleep," she said, hastily tossing her wand onto the bedside table. It rolled a bit and rattled against the glass of her oil lamp.

The footsteps paused.

"_Good_ _night_, Zoe," her father said tiredly, but with finality to his tone as he descended the stairs.

"Good night, Papa," Zoe responded, rolling over and closing her eyes, a tiny smile on her face.

The fact that her father hadn't later mentioned her use of magic that night had only solidified Zoe's thoughts that he didn't mind so much that she was practicing outside of school. She imagined that if he got the impression that her experiments were becoming dangerous, he would put an end to it. In the meantime, he pretended he didn't know what was going on.

* * *

><p>The next two weeks seemed to drag by for the excited ten-year-old who wanted nothing more than to get on the Express and head to Hogwarts at that very moment. For Severus, the days sped by much too quickly—despite Zoe's sometimes irritating antics.<p>

Since their return from Diagon Alley, his daughter had been writing daily letters to Minerva in order to ask her godmother questions about various aspects of Hogwarts such as what the classes would be like and how, exactly, the Sorting Hat went about sorting the first years.

The poor barn owl that had begun that particular correspondence (Minerva had merely wished to return a book Zoe had left at her godmother's Portree home a few weeks previous) had nearly collapsed—exhausted—onto Severus's desk in his study.

He had called Zoe down from her bedroom to inform her of the missive and she'd come with another letter waiting to go out.

Severus didn't understand why. To the best of his knowledge, Minerva—in an effort to convey to her goddaughter that she should wait to experience everything about Hogwarts firsthand—had refused to answer any of Zoe's questions about the famed school. Instead, she had taken to sending the girl the oddest of things such as recipes, newspaper articles, or brochures. Severus could only assume the witch's tactic was to redirect Zoe—to no avail, obviously.

"This one's for Yorkshire pudding," Zoe said in a sigh as she had set Minerva's reply aside and began tying her newest message to the owl's leg.

Severus reached across his desk to still her hands, startling both his daughter and the bird.

"No. Give that bird a rest. You can send whatever futile question you've come up with tomorrow."

Zoe frowned.

"Do you mind if I use Zeus instead, then?" she asked, glancing at the great horned owl on its perch near the window.

Severus scowled.

"I most certainly do mind. What did I just tell you?"

"But, _Papa_…" Zoe complained. "I just wanted to—"

She cut off when she recognized his warning glare.

"Oh, all right. I'll send it tomorrow," she said huffily.

"Take this bird and get her some water," Severus instructed then.

Zoe nodded and allowed the barn owl to hop up her arm onto her shoulder before she exited the study. Severus couldn't keep his eyes from rolling at her persistence.

As they'd gotten closer to the first of September, Severus found it harder and harder to tolerate the girl's endless rambling or her inability to adhere to her typical routine of lessons, meals, what few regular chores she had, and bedtimes. She was so absorbed in her new schoolbooks, _Hogwarts: A History_ and a collection of biographies on every Hogwarts Headmaster and Headmistress from the Founders to Armando Dippet (Severus suspected Minerva had slipped that particular book to his daughter, for he was unaware of owning such a tome himself) that she had taken to using such phrases as "just five more minutes, Papa" when he had asked her to do something more than once. She had never done _that_ before.

Severus, to counteract this mild, distracted disobedience, had taken to counting to ensure compliance. She had to the count of three to put her book down and do as he asked or he would give her lines to write or have her copy from a text of _his_ choosing—typically potions recipes. Merlin, he hadn't had to _count_ since before Zoe had started primary school and he couldn't help but be annoyed with her making him revert to earlier disciplinary practices; he wished, at times, that she wasn't so singular-minded.

There had been one particularly trying day about a week before Zoe's departure.

Severus had entered into the kitchen for lunch to find the other chair of the table empty. He, himself, had lost track of the time while working in the conservatory—but only by a few minutes—and was therefore surprised that Ollie had set the food out despite his daughter not being there.

"Ollie."

The house elf had Apparated in with a crack.

"Is Mr. Severus wanting something?" she asked.

"Yes. Where is Zoe?"

"Miss Zoe is saying that she isn't wanting lunch. Miss Zoe is saying that she wants to finish her chapter."

Severus rolled his eyes and turned from the kitchen. He strode into his study where Zoe sat cross-legged in the chair behind his desk, _Hogwarts: A History_ open in her lap. He reached down and took the book, closed it, and set it upon his desk. Zoe's eyes blazed at him.

"Hey! You didn't let me mark my page!"

"You'll find it again. You're eating lunch for you barely picked at your breakfast this morning."

"I'm fine," Zoe said, a bit of a whine creeping into her voice. "Can I please finish my chapter? It was getting really interesting."

"Later. Come and eat."

"Please?"

Severus sighed heavily. "Zoe, I am thrilled that you are so engrossed in research and study. However, you need to learn to manage your time more efficiently so as not to miss meals."

"I'm not even hungry." Definitely a whine now.

"And I'm not going to tell you a third time."

Severus then strode to the doorway and stopped, looking back at his child who had not moved from the chair. She had, however, crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at him. He arched a single eyebrow at her and, as the staring contest ensued, he watched as the color of Zoe's eyes changed from her typical, royal blue to a startling, light blue—like her mother's.

Though much practicing had made Zoe fully capable of morphing her irises whenever she pleased, Severus had come to the conclusion that when she was being particularly stubborn or feeling any kind of extreme emotion, the change was unconscious. Of course, being a Slytherin, he used this to his advantage—this shift was a clear tell of Zoe's obstinacy and defiance. Though, why her eyes took on that particular hue for those particular emotions was a bit more of a mystery.

"_Fine_," Severus said and walked toward one of the many bookshelves in the room and plucked a thick tome from it. He turned back to his desk and replaced _Hogwarts: A History_ with it.

At this point, Zoe was eyeing him quizzically, her arms still crossed. When Severus came around to the side of the desk she was on to open one of the drawers and take out some parchment, Zoe sat up a bit straighter to read the cover of the book.

"The Oxford English Dictionary?" she read aloud and her eyes went wide, suddenly well aware of what her father had in mind for her.

She started to jump out of the chair, no doubt finally deciding to do as she was told, but Severus caught her arm to sit her back down. He opened the dictionary and began flipping through the pages quickly until he finally came to the word his was looking for.

"Here we are," he said condescendingly. "'_Decorum: A requirement of correct behavior or conduct in polite society'_, et cetera. You will start here and copy down every word and definition until you come to…" Severus turned several pages until his eyes caught on an appropriate word. "Ah… '_Discipline: A system of rules for behavior, methods of practice'_, and so on and so forth."

"No, I'll go to lunch," Zoe said, again trying to rise from the chair, but Severus's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Too late. Perhaps you may have your lunch after you've finished." He tapped the page of the dictionary with his finger. "Get started."

Then he strode from the room with a smirk on his face as he ignored the sour glare being aimed at his back. Arriving in the kitchen once more, he instructed Ollie to wait five minutes and then take Zoe's lunch up to her on a tray. He had no intention to starve her as punishment, of course, and he was certain the girl would eat now.

After that, father and daughter had come to a mutual, though unspoken, truce. Severus made sure to give her extra school time to look through or read her magical schoolbooks and Zoe became the well-mannered, typically obedient girl he expected. Granted, he knew he'd given her very little choice in the matter, but he would not have her going through her day-to-day schedule apathetically just because Hogwarts was not far on the horizon.

As the the countdown of days to her going to school grew smaller, Severus began making all the necessary arrangements in regards to his potions enterprise. It took several days just to inform his clients of the change in his business address and putting St. Mungo's on notice that he was ending his contract with them had been something of an ordeal. They hadn't been pleased to lose him as a brewer, after all. Severus, on the other hand, was more than pleased to know that his days of brewing simple, mundane potions in bulk were over.

Despite all Zoe's excitement over going to Hogwarts, Severus had still stewed miserably. It was bad enough that he was sending his daughter off to the one place where she was almost certain to discover the treacherous ways of his young adulthood and first tenure as a professor, but he was still worried about this mysterious griffin wand.

Zoe hadn't really seemed to notice his mood as she prattled on about all the spells she had read about. Of course, he had continuously told her that she was not to cast a single spell outside of school or suffer his great displeasure, but after seeing the back garden lit up in the dead of night from the attic window, he became certain that she was doing simple spells up in her bedroom.

He had reprimanded her, threatened to take her wand from her, but the truth was that Severus didn't really care whether she was attempting spells—the harmless ones, anyway. He certainly had no intention of reporting her activity to the Ministry. At least she would be ahead of the curve once she reached Hogwarts and, perhaps, she would obtain some level of control over her temperamental wand before she was put in proximity to other children and exposed to stronger magic.

Besides, he had much more important matters to think about than her levitation spells—such as how he was going to keep the knowledge that Zoe was his daughter away from the general populace of her classmates. After all, he was a taskmaster and a disciplinarian in the classroom—he knew that much—but he didn't want his daughter to suffer at the hands of her peers every time he issued a detention or took away house points.

This would not prove to be an easy task for, though he hardly believed that it was common knowledge that he even had a child, he hadn't exactly spent the past eleven years hiding Zoe away. They'd gone into public hundreds of times, been seen at events at Malfoy Manor on several occasions… the Lupins were regular guests in their home. No, there were people that knew and he couldn't hush them all up, therefore this approach—simply doing his best not to bring attention to the fact—was what he had deemed to be best for her.

There was also the very pressing issue of former Death Eaters. Many of them had children roaming the halls of Hogwarts and, as far as Severus knew, none of them, at least, were aware of his actual relationship to Zoe.

Yes, Yaxley had seen him with the girl nearly seven years ago and, of all those released, he was the most likely candidate to start any hostilities against Severus or anyone who had fought on the side of the Light. But Severus was certain that he would have been notified had Yaxley procreated an heir, for the Ministry tracked the man constantly. Minerva would have informed him as well.

Zoe, at least, would remain safe in that regard. For Severus had no doubt that a man of Yaxley's moral ambiguity wouldn't think twice about using his own child to further his sadistic motives against another man's child.

He was only happy that they hadn't run into anyone he deemed undesirable during their shopping trip in Diagon Alley nearly a fortnight before for Severus would have had to tell any such person some vague story about escorting a student around per his duties as a professor of the school. No doubt that would have begun an onslaught of intrusive questions from the curious ten-year-old that Severus was not prepared to answer. With all of these factors taken into account, certain precautions had been put in place and, having spoken to Minerva, they had agreed that the measures they took should not be difficult for Zoe to follow.

It was with this thought in mind that he now sat in the sitting room the night before her departure for Hogwarts staring blankly at Zoe who was sitting cross-legged in his green armchair reading from her Charms book, practicing the all-too-familiar swish and flick movement of a levitation spell.

Zoe looked up at him then, her faced screwed up in concentration.

"Am I doing it right?" she asked.

As far as Severus could tell, she had executed the movement correctly the first time and, judging by the loud thud that he'd heard from her bedroom several nights previous, she had performed the actual spell adequately as well. She could probably move on to the movements for more difficult charms and still find them rather easy.

He couldn't help the sense of smugness and pride warming him. His daughter would flourish wonderfully at school.

Except in potions, of course. She would probably still be dreadful at potions.

His smirk faltered slightly at the thought—as ridiculous as it was, Severus was still rather sore that his daughter hadn't inherited his knack for the subject. She would do her best, he had no doubt of that, but she would never have his precision, his flair.

"Papa?"

Severus was brought out of his reverie and blinked at his daughter momentarily before he recalled what she had asked him.

"Yes, Zoe, your movement is correct."

She smiled wanly at him, then wrinkled her brow and looked anxiously over at him.

"Papa? Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked tentatively.

Severus raised his eyebrows at her.

"What makes you think that I have something to tell you?"

"Well," Zoe began, "you've been staring at me for a long time and haven't moved. And you've been really, er, far away. You always do that right before you tell me something really important. Something you've been thinking about a lot."

"How very observant," he remarked blandly, looking away from her.

"You still don't want me to go to Hogwarts, do you?"

Severus instantly turned his eyes back to lock with Zoe's. Her voice had been steady, though a slightly higher pitch than normal, but she couldn't hide the melancholy green of her eyes that gave away her true feelings. She was honestly still worried he would bar her from going even after he had spent a small fortune preparing her for her studies? After he had agreed to teach again even though he loathed the very thought of the profession? Severus needed to stop these thoughts right then and there.

"Zoe, come here," he said softly.

She set her book aside and slowly rose from the chair, making her way toward him. She stood before him and eyed him hesitantly. Severus sat forward on the sofa and took her hands in his before leveling her with a serious gaze.

"As far as I am concerned, nothing but the finest magical education will be adequate for you and, since Hogwarts is and will remain the finest educational institution for witchcraft and wizardry in Europe, that is where you will go."

A light smile played across his daughter's lips. Severus pulled her so that she was sitting beside him on the sofa. He might as well get this part out of the way now rather than informing her right before she boarded the train.

"However, whilst you are at Hogwarts, there are going to be some rather…different rules that you must—and I mean _must_—follow. This is without exception. You will do it and there will be no arguing about it."

Zoe turned her head to look up at him with a confused expression on her face. Severus continued.

"First, you will not be using your surname during your years at Hogwarts."

"I'm not going to be Zoe Snape?" she asked, perplexed.

Severus shook his head. "No. You have been enrolled under your mother's surname, Agnew."

"Why?"

"Because I believe—and Minerva rather agrees—that by doing so, this will disassociate you with the name of a professor and therefore keep you from having to deal with other students endlessly enlisting your help with, say, getting their marks adjusted."

Zoe's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But, Papa, I wouldn't—"

"I know, it was just an example," Severus spoke over her. "I just wish to make it…easier for you while you are at school."

"All right…" his daughter conceded, but she still didn't look entirely convinced. "What else?"

"The staff will, of course, be made aware that I am your father, but I think it best that you not reveal such information willingly to your classmates, no matter how friendly they may be."

"What?" Zoe looked thoroughly puzzled now. "Not even my friends?"

"No."

"But—"

Severus looked sternly at his daughter. "Didn't I say no arguing?"

Zoe took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. "What am I supposed to tell them?"

Severus wrinkled his brow. "There is no reason for you to lie. For example, that you live with your father and that he is a potioneer, is entirely acceptable. You will simply have to…omit certain information."

"Like the part about him being everyone's Defense professor?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at his cheeky daughter. "Yes. That would be a prudent exclusion."

Zoe sighed a heavy, clearly annoyed, sigh. "So…I take it nobody can know that Minerva's my godmother either, can they?"

Though he understood that this must seem a bit absurd to the girl, Severus was glad his daughter had picked up on this line of reasoning. It was making his job significantly easier.

"That's right. We do not wish for others to feel that you are being favored because of your association."

Zoe sighed heavily. "I don't understand why, Papa," she said. "Everyone knows that Min doesn't play favorites."

Severus frowned, feeling his own frustration growing strong. Why must this child always question his motives? Why couldn't she just take it at face value that he was doing this in her best interest, in order to protect her from the inevitable persecution of her peers?

_Because you haven't explained anything to her, not really._

"I don't much care that you do not understand. I expect you to do as you are told," Severus said, shaking his head. It had come out much more snappish than he had intended.

Zoe frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. She remained on the sofa, but scooted away from him, staring down at her lap. Severus didn't know what to say anymore, so he remained quiet. After several long minutes stretched by, Zoe spoke again.

"What am I supposed to call you when I'm at school?"

Severus looked over at her. "What do mean?"

Zoe's eyes widened, annoyed; she was obviously frustrated that he hadn't understood her the first time.

"Well, _obviously_, if nobody is supposed to know you are my father, I can't call you 'Papa' in class. Won't that give it away?"

Severus inclined his head slightly. It was a fair question, even if it was asked in a scathing tone.

"In the presence of others, you will address me as Professor Snape or sir. The same goes for Minerva. She is Professor McGonagall or Headmistress. But…" Severus waited until Zoe looked back up to him expectantly. "…when we are alone, you may feel free to address me by my more familial title, just as if we were here at home."

Zoe nodded. "And what are you going to call me?"

"In lessons and in the halls, you will be addressed as Miss Agnew."

Zoe frowned again. "I don't like that."

"It is merely a formal—"

"Why can't you just call me by my name?"

Severus sighed. "Zoe. I am not the only one that will be using this moniker for you. Many teachers choose to keep a formal relationship with their students. Aside from…_Lupin_, many will address you in this manner." Zoe nodded again but he could still tell she was pouting. "The same goes for you as well. In private, formalities are off. I will, of course, call you Zoe."

"All right," Zoe finally conceded.

She stayed where she was for a long time, stewing over the rules he had just given her. Severus wasn't entirely sure whether she was angry with him or not. Soon she stood and walked to the chair and picked up her book before strolling back and settling down next to him again. She turned to lean her back up against his arm and brought her knees up to prop the Charms book onto them. Then she pulled out her wand and began to practice the moves again.

Severus felt content. _I suppose she isn't angry with me after all_, he thought as he reopened his own book and started to read. Every once in a while he would glance at Zoe who was now waving her wand in small circles in front of her, obviously trying out the movement for a Cheering Charm. But her action was a bit off.

"Keep your wrist straighter so that your hand is completely in line with your elbow."

Zoe turned her head slightly as if trying to peer back at him. "Like this?" she asked, adjusting her arm. It still wasn't exactly right.

"No, here, let me show you," Severus said.

Zoe lifted herself up and turned to face him, crossing her legs on the sofa beside him. Severus pulled his own wand from within his robes and held it in the correct form.

"See how the entire arm lines up? There are many spells that use this particular movement and the better form you have, the more powerful the spell can become."

Zoe nodded and turned her wrist slightly just as she had seen Severus do. He nodded.

"That is correct."

Severus laid his wand on the table beside him and went back to his reading. Soon after, the clock on the mantle tolled out that it was nine o'clock.

"Bed, Zoe," Severus said, not even looking up from his reading as, surprisingly, his daughter closed her book and made every movement as if she intended to comply. This was a first. Normally, she would drag her heels as much as possible and complain, sometimes until he resorted to threatening her with a full Body-Bind and levitating her to her bed by force. But not tonight. Perhaps she wanted to be fully rested for her trip in the morning…

When she had crossed the room and pulled the book that would reveal the concealed door to the stairs, she turned back and looked at him. Severus knew it was too much to be true that his daughter would simply obey his command entirely.

"Papa? Are you going to ride the Hogwarts Express with me tomorrow?"

Severus wrinkled his brow.

"No. I will Apparate to Hogsmeade after I see you onto the train."

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense."

She started up the stairs, then turned back again.

"Papa?"

"Is a levitation charm going to be in order tonight?"

Zoe giggled lightly. "No. I just wanted to say…thank you. For letting me go to Hogwarts after all."

Severus smirked slightly. "To bed now, silly girl."

Zoe smiled and made her way up the stairs, softly latching the bookshelf in place behind her.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Reviews: As powerfully inspirational as great songs... without the possibility of your sister singing them off key in the shower.<em>**


	6. Firsts, Friends, and Friction

**_This chapter is rather long, but I didn't want to break up the flow of it by splitting it into two chapters. I hope you don't mind. _  
><strong>

**_Please enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>Firsts, Friends, and Friction<strong>

The next morning seemed to drag on forever as far as Zoe was concerned. Her father had sent Ollie to wake her just after seven and, though she had packed her brand new trunk over and over again with all her books and supplies and most of her clothes, her father had made her go through her list with him in his laboratory while he packed his magically extended leather kit with his own supplies and potions.

"If you leave anything, I will not be Apparating back to collect it once the term starts. You will have to do without until the Christmas holidays," he had told her when she had complained about his thorough inventory.

Zoe had grinned mischievously at him then. "What if I accidently left _all_ my underwear?"

"As I said, you would have to do without until Christmas."

Her father had arched his eyebrow at her, inviting her to test him at her own risk, but she had seen a faint smile on his face as well. She continued with her list, checking off the items as she found them in her trunk.

Finally, the time had come for them to make their way to King's Cross. Zoe sat on top of her trunk in the sitting room waiting for her father to come and transport her things to Hogwarts. One of the benefits of having her father as a professor was that he could magically send all her school things with his and she wouldn't need to fuss with carrying them on the train. She would just be taking her rucksack with a few books in it and her wand along with her for the trip as well as one set of school robes to change into on the train.

"Are you certain you have everything?"

Zoe looked up at her father as he walked into the room levitating a trunk and two large suitcases in front of him. He wasn't dressed in his normal wizarding attire due to their needing to walk through the Muggle-inhabited train station that held Platform 9¾. Instead, he wore plain black trousers and a black jumper over a slate-colored button-up shirt. It wasn't often that Zoe saw him in his Muggle attire, but she always thought he looked very refined when she did. If it wasn't for the length of his hair, he could pass himself off as some sort of banker or other businessman.

"I'm sure," she said as she hopped up off her trunk.

A wave of his wand brought his luggage to rest on the floor beside hers and he nodded to her response before turning to look around the sitting room. He walked resolutely to the fireplace and took down from the mantle the framed photograph of him asleep in his armchair with a baby Zoe dozing on his chest. Zoe watched him shrink it slightly before placing it in the same pocket in which he kept his watch. She liked the thought that he was taking a picture of her with him. She knew it was unlikely that he would display it on his desk where others could see it, but she knew it would remain safe in his quarters where he could look at it and think of her.

Her father then walked to his green armchair and placed a hand on the old upholstery, thinking deeply. He nodded once as if making a decision and, with a wave of his wand, the chair disappeared right before Zoe's eyes.

"Papa, what did you do to your chair?"

He looked at her as he walked slowly back toward the pile of luggage.

"I've sent it to my suite at Hogwarts, just as I'm about to send our other things," he stated. When Zoe had nodded her understanding, he did another downward, circular wave and the floor was now clear of their trunks. He pulled his watch from his pocket and looked down on it. "We really need to be going if you are to make the train. Are you ready?"

Zoe nodded as she reached up and held tightly to her father's left arm, squeezing her eyes closed. "Yes, just do it."

She had done Side-Along Apparition with her father many times, but the sensation was still rather unpleasant, especially at long distances and they had to travel all the way to London and hit an exact, Ministry-approved mark. From there, they would walk to the train station.

After an uncomfortable squeezing, Zoe opened her eyes to find herself in a dark alley. Straight ahead, she could see a busy London street where cars and lorries rumbled past. It was so much noisier here than the little mill town in which she lived, but she loved the bustle of the big city. Even the Muggle part of it was exciting and fascinating.

"Come along," her father said impatiently from the entrance of the alley, having just realized his daughter wasn't trailing directly behind him.

Zoe slung her pack more securely on her shoulders and jogged to catch up as her father strode resolutely out onto the street and down the pavement toward the train station. He seemed to be in quite a rush for Zoe had to walk very quickly in order to keep up with him, but she didn't mind.

"Eyes," her father suddenly said, tapping her on her shoulder.

Zoe looked up as he ground them to a stop in the middle of the pavement. "What?" she asked.

"Your eyes. They are lavender." Her father looked briefly around them before shifting his stern gaze back to her. "We are in a Muggle environment and you know better," he scolded lowly. "Change them now."

"Oh," Zoe grumbled, "Yes, sir."

She had hoped he wouldn't notice the unnatural color she had donned today to match her Muggle skirt and blouse. She should have known it wouldn't work; her father noticed everything. Sighing, she blinked and morphed them back to her natural dark blue. As soon as she passed inspection as a Muggle, her father allowed them to continue.

Once inside King's Cross Station, there was no time for Zoe to look about. Her father placed his hand on her shoulder in order to keep her from getting lost in the crowd as they made their way to the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Then, abruptly, her father stopped.

She looked up to him, completely bewildered and saw that he was staring straight ahead with an odd, agitated look on his face. She followed his gaze to see that he was staring at a family that was gathered on the platform. There was a man standing there that had unruly black hair and glasses. He was holding and talking softly to a sobbing little girl with red hair as a woman with equally vivid locks reprimanded a boy with messy black hair. There was another boy standing there watching who could only be his brother getting told off by their mother. That boy was younger and also had black hair like the man, though it was much more controlled. He didn't wear glasses, but he was wearing an amused smirk on his face.

"Papa?" Zoe finally spoke up to her father. She was confused as to why that family had stopped their forward movement.

Her father glanced down at her as if he had forgotten why they were here. He took a deep breath and continued toward the platform. When they had reached the family, he stopped once more and, relinquishing his grasp on Zoe's shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the black-haired man.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Head Auror himself. Tell me, Potter, is your family going to go through the barrier, or are you going to block other people's entrances all day?"

The man turned quickly to face Zoe's father with a look of shock on his face. Even the little girl in his arms stopped crying to look over at the man who had addressed her own father so harshly.

"Snape," the man—Potter—said. "Interesting seeing you here. I'm sorry; I didn't realize we were keeping anyone from the platform."

"I wouldn't have expected you to care. Celebrities don't often put others before themselves," her father bit back.

Zoe was confused as to why her father was being so mean to this other man. Although it appeared that her father knew the man and that this Potter was aware of her father, Zoe had never seen them together before. Why had this man earned her father's scorn? Why had her father called him a celebrity?

Potter narrowed his eyes at her father for a moment before waving off his hostility and looking down at Zoe.

"Who is this you've brought along with you?" the man asked pleasantly.

Zoe looked up at her father who had stiffened. _Nobody_ _is_ _supposed_ _to_ _know_, _I_ _get_ _it_, she thought and Zoe found herself reaching forward to hold her hand out to the man.

"I'm Zoe Agnew," she said. "I'm a first year. Professor Snape was just escorting me to the train."

The man looked down at Zoe and, putting his daughter down with one arm to stand beside him, he reached the other one out to grasp Zoe's hand.

"I see. Pleased to meet you, Zoe Agnew. I'm Harry Potter," he said, glancing briefly to Zoe's father suspiciously, before turning his attention back to her. "Hogwarts is brilliant, I'm sure you are going to have a lot of fun there. Er, this here is Lily," he indicated the little girl before pointing toward the red-haired woman, "That is my wife, Ginny, and my eldest son, James," the man continued, waving the older of the boys over who seemed only too happy to get away from his angry mother. "He's starting his second year there and Albus," the man pointed to the younger boy, "will be following along next year."

"Hey," Zoe said to the second-year boy and turned slightly to nod at the boy called Albus.

"Hey back," said James. "Which house are _you_ going to be in?"

"James!" the woman admonished her son, "Now does that really matter?"

James looked up at his mother who had her eyebrows raised in warning. "I _guess_ not," he said. "I was only curious because—"

"Don't be rude," the woman commanded, cutting off her son's explanation. She looked at Zoe's father then. "It's good to see you again, Professor. Please excuse my wayward son. We've talked with him about inter-house rivalries."

James merely turned away from his mother toward Zoe and rolled his eyes, smiling mischievously. Zoe smirked slightly.

"I'm sure, Mrs. Potter," was her father's only acknowledgement of the woman's words.

"Daddy, I want to go to Hogwarts with Jamie," Lily suddenly whined.

"I know, sweetheart, but you still have a few years," the man reassured her. "You'll be going soon enough."

Potter then turned to look once more at Zoe's father. "Remus said you were going to start teaching again," he said. "Defense, right? What made you decide to come back after all these years?"

Zoe's father eyed Potter with an air of annoyance. "Love of the profession," he stated tersely, defying the man to think anything otherwise.

"Er, right," Potter said. "Well, I think it's brilliant. James here will no doubt learn some very useful skills under your tutelage."

"I think that depends wholly on which parent he takes after," her father drawled, looking down his nose at James who frowned at him. "From what I've seen so far, he's very much his father's son. Insubordinate and wanting in academic prowess, no doubt. Pity. Ginevra was always an excellent student."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James boldly stated, taking a step toward Zoe's father. "My dad's an Auror. I bet he could hex you into tiny pieces before you could even blink!"

"James!" his parents called in unison as the boy's mother strode forward and grabbed his arm.

"He is your professor," she reprimanded. "Show some respect and apologize to Professor Snape."

Zoe watched as James's frown seemed to deepen. He looked to his own father who nodded once to his son—reinforcing the boy's mother's command—before turning defiantly to her father.

"I'm sorry Professor Snape."

Zoe heard the black-haired man clear his throat. James looked back at his father briefly then turned again to face Zoe and her father, averting his eyes to the ground.

"Sir," he added as an afterthought to his own father's stern look.

Zoe's father merely arched an eyebrow at the boy before addressing the man. "Yes, very like you, isn't he, Potter? Utterly defiant and foolhardy. I have no doubt we'll get along swimmingly in class."

Her father leaned down toward James menacingly then. Zoe knew that look in his eyes, too. James had crossed a line and was about to pay dearly for it.

"For your information, Mr. Potter…" Her father's tone was dangerously low. "…your father wouldn't stand a chance in a duel against me for there are certain skills I am sure he has yet to master. And, just for future reference, if you prefer to keep your evenings detention-free and your house hourglass filled, I wouldn't suggest you speak to me that way _ever_ again."

"Yes, sir," James said, clenching his teeth.

Zoe smirked at the boy. Her father could be very intimidating and it was interesting to see a child other than her squirm under his reproachful glare for once. Poor James had no idea what he had just gotten himself into.

Her father resumed his standing posture and looked once more to the black-haired man.

"Well, Potter, if you will excuse us, I must see this student onto the train. I am so looking forward to having your boy in class. Come along, Miss Agnew."

Zoe nodded and stepped away from the family with her father toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

* * *

><p>"Didn't Remus say that Professor Snape's daughter's name was Zoe?" Ginny asked her husband, leaning in close to him so that she was out of earshot of her children. "Do you think that's her?"<p>

Unbeknownst to her, however, her eldest was making use of his Uncle George's latest prototype for young eavesdroppers, Whisper-Wailers—tiny buds that went into your ear and were guaranteed to make you a part of even the most covert of conversations.

"It has to be," Harry replied. "He also said that Minerva told him that Snape's daughter would be starting Hogwarts this year instead of next."

"Why do you suppose he didn't just introduce her as his daughter? Why the change of surname?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure he has his reasons. He usually does."

Ginny nodded.

* * *

><p>Once the Snapes were out of earshot, Zoe's father looked down at her.<p>

"There's no need to be frightened of the barrier. You simply walk straight toward the wall and have faith that it will allow you to pass through," he said, his tone so different from the one he had just used for James Potter.

"I'm not scared," Zoe said softly, looking straight ahead at the expanse of brick in front of her. She was certain that the unsteadiness of her voice gave her away, however. Her father arched an eyebrow at her.

"Very well. You go first and I will follow you."

Zoe nodded and, holding tightly to her rucksack, she walked resolutely toward the wall. When she was only two strides away, she closed her eyes tightly and quickened her pace. She was certain she was going to smack her face into the brick, but once she had taken several more steps, she opened her eyes to see the image of the Hogwarts Express billowing small streams of white smoke as children and parents mingled around the platform. Her father walked up behind her then and put his hand on her shoulder again, steering her toward the passenger cars of the train.

Once they had gone about halfway down the platform, her father stopped and she turned to look up at him.

"I trust you can find a compartment on your own?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll be all right."

He nodded. Zoe saw what looked like apprehension in her father's eyes for a fleeting second as he looked away from her. She followed his gaze and saw that, all around them mothers and fathers were hugging and kissing their children goodbye, wishing them luck in the upcoming term, and telling them to behave on the train.

Zoe looked back to her father. She wanted to hug him too, but the Snapes weren't prone to such affectionate gestures with each other—not for something so small and trivial as a good bye and most definitely not in public. Not to mention, with the new rules her father had imposed, she knew that she couldn't on the platform lest she give their relationship away. Therefore, in an effort to convey to her father that she would miss him despite them only being separated for a short while, she blinked, morphing her dark, sapphire eyes to match his black as she briefly raised her hand to pat his arm. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and Zoe knew that he understood her feelings.

"Do you have your wand?" he asked, clearing his throat.

Zoe nodded and pulled her wand from the waistband of her skirt, holding it up for her father to see. He nodded again before reaching into his trousers pocket.

"Here, in case you get hungry," said her father, handing her a Galleon and a few Sickles. Zoe looked down at the coins briefly before tucking them away for later. "I feel I'm obligated to insist that you try to eat something other than licorice wands and sugar quills whilst on the train, however."

"Thank you, Papa. I will."

He took a deep breath. Somehow, Zoe got the impression that he didn't want to leave, though his expression was quite unreadable. "You may keep the change for a bit of pocket money. Merlin knows you'll feel the pressure from your classmates to purchase something worthless eventually."

Zoe grinned and then the two just stared at each other, tuning out everything that was going on around them. Several moments passed by but, finally, Zoe stepped away from her father and up onto the train, turning to give him a short wave and another smile. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and she turned away to make her way into the bustling passenger car.

Once she had found a compartment, she sat down and immediately looked out the window toward the platform, but her father was already gone. In only a few minutes, he would be at Hogwarts, moving into his quarters and finishing his preparations for the first day of classes tomorrow.

Once the train started to move out of the station, she opened up her Defense book and started to read. Not too long after, the door to her compartment opened up.

"Do you mind if I sit in here with you?"

A girl Zoe's age was peeking in and looking at her expectantly. The girl had dark blonde hair that she wore down, but pulled away from her face with a thick, purple headband. She was slightly shorter and slightly plumper than Zoe was—but far from chubby—and she had a kind, round face.

"Sure," Zoe said, inviting the girl to sit opposite her.

Once the girl had taken her seat, she smiled at Zoe.

"I'm Caroline Pitts. I'm just starting this year."

"Yeah, I'm a first year too," Zoe said. "I'm Zoe. Zoe Sn—Zoe Agnew."

Zoe couldn't believe she almost let her real name slip. Her father would have killed her if he found out that she had revealed her true identity after she had been on the train for only five minutes. Caroline didn't seem to have noticed, however, and Zoe was grateful.

"So," Caroline began awkwardly. "What are you reading?"

Zoe closed her textbook and showed it to the girl.

"_Defensive Magic For the Beginner_," Caroline read. "Oh, our Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. But why are you reading that now? Classes don't start until tomorrow."

Zoe shrugged, but she was suddenly very self-conscious. "My father says I should always start a new term having read a few chapters ahead."

"Oh," Caroline responded. "Well, I looked over most of my books but didn't really read them. There'll be plenty of time over the term, right?"

Zoe shrugged again, wanting to halt this conversation.

"Er, what do your parents do?" she asked the girl.

Caroline smiled at Zoe. "Well, my mother works for the Department of Magical Cooperation at the Ministry and Dad is an Unspeakable. So, I guess I don't really know what he does."

Zoe smirked. "You've never asked him?"

"Loads of times, but he can't tell me. It's all really hush-hush in the Department of Mysteries."

"I suppose that makes sense," Zoe said, giggling. Caroline giggled as well.

"What about your mum and dad?" the other girl asked.

"Oh, um, well, my father brews potions. He has his own business. And my mum is—" Zoe wasn't entirely sure she wanted to talk about her mother. After all, she had just met this girl and she didn't want Caroline to feel sorry for her just because her mother was dead. But what else was she supposed to say? She couldn't just make up what her mother did, that would be a lie and her father said that the truth was always much more preferable to lies, even if the truth was hard.

Caroline was watching Zoe expectantly, so Zoe took a deep breath and continued.

"My mother died when I was a baby. It's just Papa and me."

Caroline's eyes widened in shock. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't—"

"It's okay," Zoe said. "I never knew her. But… I bet she was great."

Caroline nodded and the two girls were silent for some time. Caroline seemed to be perfectly content staring out at the countryside and Zoe didn't have any problem simply reading her book, but after a while, the silence felt a bit awkward. Besides, Zoe had never had any magical friends before and this was certainly an opportunity to make one.

"So, what house do you think you'll be in?" she asked the other girl.

Caroline looked at Zoe and cocked her head to the side in contemplation.

"I don't know," she said. "They say that you're likely to be placed in the same house as your parents and siblings. Both my parents were Ravenclaws and so was my older sister. But one of my brothers is in Hufflepuff and the other one was in Slytherin, so I don't really know."

"Wow! You have a sister and two brothers? There are so many of you. Are they all at Hogwarts?" Zoe asked.

"No, only Caleb is. He's the one in Hufflepuff and he's a sixth year. Claire passed out a couple of years ago. She lives in America now. And my eldest brother, Christopher, does research for St. Mungo's."

"That's amazing. So, you could get into any house then, couldn't you?"

"I suppose, but I hope I'm in Ravenclaw like my folks," Caroline stated. "What about you? Which house do you want to be in?"

"I dunno," Zoe shrugged. "Papa said he wouldn't mind which house I got in to as long as I'm a good student."

"Yeah, but which one do you _want_ to be in?" Caroline pushed.

"I said, I don't know. I don't really know what they all mean."

"Okay, well, maybe I can figure it out. Are you smart?"

"I think so…" Zoe said wrinkling her forehead.

"Are you brave?"

"Uh, sure. I guess."

"How about loyal? Do you stick up for your friends?"

"Yeah…"

"Would you do almost anything to prove yourself?"

"I don't—"

"Would you?"

"Yeah, sure."

Caroline pulled her arm up to rest under her chin, contemplating the answers she just received from Zoe. Zoe was intrigued. Did the girl really know which house she was going to be in based on what Zoe had said? It seemed pretty unlikely, but she was kind of anxious to know what Caroline thought.

"Well?" she finally asked. "What house am I going to be in?"

Caroline looked at Zoe. "No idea," she said deadpanned. "You're kind of like all the houses."

"Great," Zoe mumbled, propping her head on her hand and staring blankly out the window. That had been entirely anticlimactic.

"I wonder where John is?" Caroline suddenly asked aloud, looking toward the door to their compartment out into the slim corridor beyond.

"Who's John?" Zoe asked.

"John Thomas. He lives next door to my family. I've known him my entire life and he's just starting at Hogwarts this year, too. He said he was going to sit with his older brother for a while, but then he said he'd come and finish the trip with me. I don't know what could have held him up."

"Oh," Zoe said. "Well, maybe his brother won't let him leave."

"Maybe," Caroline conceded, shrugging. "Dominic _does_ like to think he's in charge all the time, but he's not."

Zoe nodded as, at that moment, a lanky, dark-skinned boy with oval glasses pushed open the compartment door and entered. He was already in his Hogwarts robes and he had a sour look upon his face that mellowed slightly upon closing the door and relaxing into the seat next to Caroline.

"I was just wondering about you," Caroline told the boy.

"Sorry," John said. "Dom is being a prat just because Mum told him to look out for me. It took me forever to finally get away and then the corridor is so packed and this compartment is so far away from the one I was in and…who're you?"

John finally seemed to realize that there was one more person in the compartment.

"Oh, this is Zoe Agnew, John," Caroline introduced. "She's a first year, too."

"Excellent," John said. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Zoe said, nodding.

"Do you want to play some Exploding Snap?" John asked, pulling out a deck of cards.

"Sure!" Caroline said as her and John turned collectively toward Zoe.

"Er, I don't know how to play," Zoe admitted.

"You don't know how to play Exploding Snap?" John asked incredulously. "What are you, Muggleborn?"

"No… My father's a wizard. I just, well, I've just never played before."

"Blimey, your dad never taught you how to play?"

"No. He's not really…into games, I suppose."

"Oh," Caroline said. "Well, we can teach you. It's really easy and loads of fun."

"Yeah, okay," Zoe said, smiling at her new friend as Caroline and John started to explain the rules to her.

* * *

><p>The rest of the train ride went by rather quickly. After several games of Exploding Snap, the two girls and John talked about houses and what they thought the classes were going to be like and, before Zoe knew it, she was changing into her school robes as the train came to a halt at Hogsmeade station.<p>

As she stepped off the train and started to walk towards the large man that was calling out for the first years—Hagrid was his name, her father had told her—she passed by James Potter. The boy was arguing with a pretty, older girl with long, strawberry blonde hair. Zoe could just make out what appeared to be a prefect's badge on her Ravenclaw robes.

"You just wait until I tell Aunt Ginny what you did, James Sirius Potter!" the girl threatened.

"Ah, come on, Victoire! We were just having a laugh! Give me a break! Please don't tell my mum, that's just evil," James pleaded.

Zoe smirked inwardly, but shook he head. Apparently, James Potter was something of a troublemaker. She would have to avoid him; her father thought she got into enough trouble as it was.

After a bit of a hike along a crooked path, they came to the lake. There, Zoe boarded a little boat with Caroline and John and they skimmed across the dark water of the lake with the rest of the first years towards Hogwarts Castle. Caroline had been talking animatedly about visiting her older sister in New York City over the summer when she suddenly cut off, her mouth hanging open as she stared off into the distance. Zoe looked up also and was flooded with a strong sense of joy and anticipation.

The castle was enormous. Zoe didn't believe that any amount of explanation from her godmother could ever have prepared her for just how big it actually was. Turrets and towers jutted up to the sky as if touching it. There were countless windows and walkways and it all stood atop an enormous cliff off the lake. Of what she could make out of the grounds in the weak moonlight, she could see that the lawns were sprawling as they sloped down toward the outer edges of the forest. It was everything she could have imagined it to be, yet so much more.

After disembarking beneath the castle, everything went by in a whir for Zoe. There was so much to see as the first years were escorted up flights of stairs past numerous moving portraits that waved at the first years or otherwise whispered to themselves as the children passed by. There were coats of armor stuck into alcoves along the corridors and Zoe could have sworn that some of them were speaking or even moving, but that could have been the way the firelight played with the shadows and created tricks to her eyes.

Eventually, the assembled crowd was ushered into an anteroom. They waited only a minute or two before a tiny man entered from what Zoe assumed was the Great Hall judging by the murmur of voices issuing from the large wooden door. There had to be hundreds of students inside waiting for the first years to come out and be sorted.

Zoe suddenly realized that she was completely wracked with nerves. What if it took as long for her to be sorted as it had taken to get her wand? What if the Hat didn't know where to put her at all?

Zoe had just started to wonder how disappointed her father and Minerva were going to be if the Hat said she wasn't fit to be a student at Hogwarts, when the tiny man quieted the group of first years and introduced himself.

"Welcome first years!" he squeaked. "I am Professor Flitwick. I am Deputy Headmaster here at Hogwarts and I will also be your Charms professor. In a few moments, you will be brought into the Great Hall before your classmates to be placed by the Sorting Hat into your individual houses. The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin and those houses will become your home during your time at school. Now, let's go in and get you all sorted!"

The man then reopened the door and the first years began to file out of the anteroom and into the Great Hall. Zoe looked apprehensively toward Caroline who looked back at her just as anxiously before joining the queue to their sorting.

Zoe entered into the Great Hall and she raked her eyes over the four, long house tables briefly before looking up to the Head table where the teachers were sitting. She immediately caught sight of her godmother in the middle of the table perched upon a very regal, high-backed chair.

Minerva smiled kindly toward Zoe as she caught her eye before looking down the table. Zoe followed her gaze down three chairs to Minerva's right and settled on her father who nodded to her with an impassive look on his face. Even though he hadn't smiled and barely acknowledged her, Zoe found that she was extremely happy that he was there, despite her earlier qualms about his rules. Her nerves didn't entirely dissipate, but she felt much better knowing that her father would be there watching her through her sorting.

The first years gathered in front of a tatty, old wizard's hat that was covered in patches and was so worn it probably should have gone in the rubbish bin years ago. Zoe hadn't ever been told how the hat went about sorting students into their houses. Minerva had refused to tell her any of the interesting and exciting details of Hogwarts because she wanted her goddaughter to experience them without prior knowledge and her father…well, her father was never one to impart a lot to Zoe unless he deemed it absolutely necessary—or unless he was pestered relentlessly by his daughter. _Hogwarts: A History_ had been equally uninformative in that it merely spoke of an 'age-old tradition established by one of the founders'. Regardless, the idea that this hat was the sole divining entity that would decide her fate for the next seven years seemed a bit bonkers to Zoe.

Nonetheless, the sorting ritual was explained to the first years before a rip just above the brim of the hat opened up and a message of welcome, encouragement, and an explanation of the houses was imparted to everyone in the Hall. Soon after, Professor Flitwick was reading out the names for everyone to hear.

"Aaron, Cecilia!"

A haughty looking girl with light red hair walked forward and sat down on the stool. Zoe didn't know why, but she instantly didn't care for the girl.

"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat bellowed as the table on the far end of the hall erupted in peals of applause. Cecilia Aaron hopped down off the stool and flounced over to the table. Zoe watched as the girl sat down using a fake smile as a greeting to the older students sitting around her.

"Abner, Levi!"

"Gryffindor!"

Zoe didn't think the celebration of a new recruit could have been louder than what she had just heard, but she was wrong. As the curly, brown-haired boy walked toward the Gryffindor table, the Hall erupted in ecstatic hoots and applause. Zoe wondered if the houses were somehow competing for the title of loudest House in the Hall.

She was doubly interested to find that, instead of going next, there were two more boys ahead of her. Apparently, Levi Abner was one of triplets—identical triplets right down to their doe eyes, slender noses and aggressively curly, dark hair. Zoe was intrigued when Luca Abner stepped up to the stool. She had to look back at the Gryffindor table just to be sure that she hadn't somehow gone back in time.

"Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted and again, there was an earsplitting commotion from the table behind her.

"Abner, Lyle!" Flitwick called.

"Ravenclaw!" the Hat shouted this time.

Zoe watched behind her and smiled as the Ravenclaws gave their new recruit a warm welcome. She was so absorbed in curiosity about how it must feel for Lyle Abner to be sorted away from his brothers that she didn't even notice that her own name had been called.

"Agnew, Zoe!" Professor Flitwick said again, clearly confused as to why the student hadn't come forward.

"Zoe, he's calling your name… Zoe!" Caroline said beside her and Zoe's eyes went wide.

_Right, Agnew, yes,_ Zoe thought and she rushed to the front of the crowd and up the few steps to the stool. She glanced to Minerva who was trying to contain a smirk then down to her father who was frowning with disapproval. She quickly waved it off, however, and sat down, turning away from the teacher's table. Professor Flitwick levitated the Sorting Hat onto her head and everything went black as the hat fell down all the way to her nose.

Zoe sat there for what felt like an eternity. Nothing was happening. Maybe nothing was supposed to happen, she didn't really know. It hadn't been explained to her. She finally got to the point where she was seriously considering taking the hat off and telling Professor Flitwick that it must be broken when she suddenly heard a voice inside her head.

"_Don't be so hasty, Zoe Snape,"_ it said.

Zoe's entire body went rigid. How did this hat know who she was? She hadn't been enrolled under her real name…yet this hat knew. Gods, what if it announced who she was to the whole room? Her father would not be pleased.

"_Oh, yes, I know who you are. It's all right here in your head. You're a difficult child to place, I must say. Very difficult."_

_What's that supposed to mean?_ Zoe thought scathingly.

"_Don't be offended, child. You have very strong qualities that could be attributed to any of the four houses. Your father was also especially difficult, as I recall. Dumbledore may have had his opinions about his sorting, but I will stand by where he was placed. Slytherin House gave him the means and resourcefulness he needed later in his life. He would never have developed such skills in Gryffindor…"_

Zoe had absolutely no idea what the stupid hat was talking about. Who was Dumbledore? She rolled her eyes. Wasn't it supposed to be figuring out where to place her? Although she was slightly curious about the hat wanting to put her father in Gryffindor, she also wanted to get on with her own sorting. She had been sitting on that stool for several minutes now and she could faintly hear the students whispering amongst themselves in the Great Hall.

"_Patience does not come easily to you, I see,"_ the Hat said then. _"You're quite bold, yes, I can see that, too. You seek recognition for your hard-earned triumphs, but not glory and, though you most certainly have quite the brains, you are not studious by nature. No, perhaps Ravenclaw would not be the right house for you... You have much too brash of a disposition for Hufflepuff, it seems…"_

Zoe was getting aggravated now. Is this what the Hat did? It conveyed all of your faults to you and whittled away the houses until it found the one that would have no choice but to accept you? This process was maddening.

"_You'd do well in Gryffindor or Slytherin, I believe. Both are noble, powerful houses that have produced many fine witches and wizards… Both, I believe would lead you to greatness, should you strive for such a thing. Though, I sense you, yourself, are on the fence about receiving such accolades. But are you more attuned to one than the other? Hmm…"_

Zoe was highly annoyed with how this was going and, as the murmur of the students in front of her grew louder, she couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Could you please just get on with it?" she seethed lowly to the hat, her teeth and fists clenched in frustration.

"_Very well, Zoe Snape. To your_ _father's house with you,"_ the hat said in her ear before it announced "Slytherin!" to the awaiting Hall.

The Slytherin table erupted in applause as Zoe's eyes adjusted once more to the light. She slid off the stool and walked to her house table. She sat down beside Cecilia Aaron. The girl wrinkled her dainty nose at Zoe.

"It sure took you long enough," she said snootily. "People were starting to wonder if maybe you were brought to Hogwarts by mistake."

Zoe frowned at the girl, but chose not to say anything in order to look up to the Head table. Minerva winked at her before turning her attention back to the sorting as 'Bagshot, Evan' became the first Hufflepuff of the night. Zoe had to sit up a little straighter in order to see her father's face. He caught her eye and she saw a faint smile cross his features. He was proud of her sorting, she knew it.

Zoe waited along with everyone else for the Sorting Ceremony to finish up. She found that she was rather disappointed when both Caroline Pitts and John Thomas were sorted into Ravenclaw, but by the end of everything, there were five new Slytherin girls, including her, and seven new boys for the house. Not long after the stool and Sorting Hat had been whisked away by Professor Flitwick, a feast materialized on the house tables before Zoe's eyes.

She tucked in, immediately going for a chicken leg and potatoes. She didn't realize how hungry she had been until she started eating. After all, a few cauldron cakes and some Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans on the train hardly made for a hearty, well-rounded lunch.

* * *

><p>As soon as every new student had been sorted and the feast begun, Minerva McGonagall pulled a spare bit of parchment from her robes and quickly scribbled a note with the self-refilling quill she had conjured.<p>

Smiling mischievously, Minerva folded the note over once and waved her wand, making the note vanish. She then picked up her goblet and took a sip, giving a glance to the missive's intended target down the table from her.

* * *

><p>Severus had just aimed his fork at a piece of ham he had cut when the note appeared on his plate. He spent half a second on the emotion of surprise before annoyance crept in. Quickly plucking the folded parchment from his plate before the gravy threatened to soak it, he opened it and read the familiar handwriting:<p>

_Leave it to your daughter to be the first Hatstall Hogwarts has seen in nearly seventy years._

Severus rolled his eyes, then glanced briefly toward the Slytherin House table where Zoe seemed to be eating contentedly, answering and asking the typical introductory questions exchanged between new housemates. As he looked on his daughter with pride, he made sure to ignore the note's author. Sighing, he took a quill from his robes pocket and wrote a reply before he waved his wand, vanishing the missive from his sight. He went back to his ham.

* * *

><p>Minerva opened the piece of parchment and below her own writing, in Severus's precise hand, was:<p>

_Passing secret notes within the Great Hall… Honestly, Minerva. Are you Headmistress or a school girl?_

However, as soon as she'd read and silently chuckled at the derisive jibe, more words appeared:

_As far as Zoe is concerned, I rather expected it. It's a painstaking process just for her to choose new socks in a clothing shop. And after the time she had in Ollivander's, I was not surprised that the hat would be just as flummoxed._

Minerva actually looked down the table at Severus then, unsure of whether she believed him. He raised an eyebrow at her, but continued eating. The Headmistress smiled, also getting back to her dinner.

* * *

><p>After dessert had disappeared from the tables leaving Zoe feeling more full than she had in her entire life, Minerva stood from her chair and instantly the entire Hall quieted. Zoe looked up to the Headmistress along with her classmates as Minerva started to address the students.<p>

"I would like to welcome all of our new students into the ranks here at Hogwarts. I'm sure each and every one of you will acclimate into your new dormitories gloriously and do everything you can to uphold the fine names of the houses to which you have been sorted."

_Merlin,_ Zoe thought, smirking knowingly, _make us feel guilty before we've even done anything wrong, Minerva…_

"As many of you are aware, Professor Pounder has decided to leave us in order to pursue his own personal dreams, so I would like to take this opportunity to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor: Professor Severus Snape."

Minerva held out her hand to indicate Zoe's father as the Great Hall applauded politely. There were a few errant whispers from many members of her house, but Zoe couldn't tell what was said. Minerva then turned slightly toward the Slytherin table.

"In addition, Professor Snape has agreed to take on the vacant post as the Slytherin Head of House, thus relieving Professor Sinistra of her duty as the Acting Head. Should anything arise, problems can be brought before him or your prefects."

Zoe's jaw dropped. Her father was going to be her professor _and_ her Head of House? He hadn't mentioned that to her.

"Per usual, there is a list of all the forbidden items posted on the notice boards within each dormitory. I would advise—_James_ _Potter_—that you take more than just a passing glance at the list this year. Many of your uncle's products are on it."

As many students chuckled, Zoe looked over to try to find the boy that she had met earlier and it didn't take long. A head of messy black hair was easily visible among a group of laughing students at the Gryffindor table. The boy seemed to think that what Minerva had said was highly amusing and didn't seem to think anything of being centered out in front of the entire school. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it.

"That goes for all of you: Mr. Filch implores that you read it through thoroughly," Minerva continued. "As always, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all students, the ten o'clock curfew is strictly enforced for all those under the fifth year and any magic within the corridors is prohibited. Class schedules shall be handed out at breakfast. Now, I'm sure you are all anxious to get down to your studies and the sooner you get a good night's sleep the sooner your lessons will begin. Goodnight."

The entire hall grew loud once more as benches were pushed back and the students started to chatter amongst themselves. Zoe stood and made her way toward the Entrance Hall, following the prefect who had been put in charge of showing the first years to their dormitory.

"The name's Patrick Rhodes. I'm a sixth year prefect," he introduced, walking backward through the corridors. "Slytherin House has a long history of great witches and wizards, so I hope you lot are ready to live up to the expectations. Usually, our only competition in Quidditch is Gryffindor, but when it comes to house points, all the houses are in the running. So, try not to lose too many points, will you? Competing with the other houses may have just gotten a bit easier for us now that Snape's our Head again; the way I hear it, he always used to favor the Slytherins."

Rhodes turned around then and started to walk briskly down the stairs just off the Entrance Hall, but continued to talk over his shoulder as they descended into the dungeons.

"The castle can be a bit confusing to navigate for your first few weeks, but as long as you can get from the dormitory to the Great Hall, you won't starve, so pay attention here."

Zoe tried to stay with the group as much as she could, but there were so many things to look at and twice she had to run to catch up as her peers and the prefect disappeared around a corner. She didn't expect to suddenly run into the back of one of the first year boys who had come to a stop along with the rest of the group beside an expanse of wall.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" the boy said, pushing Zoe away from him.

"Sorry," Zoe said, flushing.

"Hey, firsties, listen up!" Rhodes piped up from the front. "This is the entrance into the common room. If you'll look closely, the Slytherin crest is right there on that stone. All you have to do is speak the password and the door will open for you. Passwords change every week and I wouldn't advise telling them to your little friends in other houses. Slytherin can be a nasty place to live for those who flap their jaws to the whole castle. Got that?"

There was a general murmur of understanding from the first years. Zoe nodded her head.

"All right, then. Minotaur."

Zoe watched as the stone wall where the tiny Slytherin crest resided began to melt away and suddenly she was looking in on a large, regal room. As she was ushered inside, she took in the leather sofas and chairs in black and deep greens. There was a sort of general green ambiance to the entire common room that Zoe figured must be due to the large wall along one side; she imagined it was holding back the murky waters of the lake. Every lamp in the place was also green. Of course, Slytherin banners and tapestries hung from many of the walls and there were moving portraits of witches and wizards who watched the new Slytherins with interest. A large fire sizzled and popped away in the enormous fireplace opposite the door and to the left, Zoe saw two doors leading away into darkness one reading 'Ladies' and the other 'Gentlemen'.

Zoe was surprised to find that very few older students were mingling around in the common room upon their entrance. Of course, if the other students were as tired as she was, they probably all went straight to their dormitories to prepare for bed.

"The dormitories, as you can see are to the left. Only prefects and seventh years get their own dorms, so you lot will be bunking up with someone else at two to a room. Though, there are an uneven number of boys _and_ girls here, so one of the larger rooms in each dorm will have to accommodate three. It'll be crowded tonight, but tomorrow during his free period, Professor Snape will come and enlarge the rooms a bit."

"Okay, ladies first," Rhodes said, pulling a piece of parchment from his robes. "Wickham, Lottie; Welch, Persimmon; and Mulciber, Abigail. You three are in room 14, down the corridor, last door on the left. Aaron, Cecilia and Agnew, Zoe, you take room 15, end of the hall to the right."

After Rhodes had finished assigning the boys their rooms, all the first years—including Zoe—started moving toward their respective corridors, but the prefect stopped them before they'd gone too far.

"Hang on," he called. "I nearly forgot. You're to wait here for Professor Snape before going to bed—something about welcoming you to Slytherin. I'm sure it's just rules and stuff. Professor Sinistra never used to—"

Patrick Rhodes cut off as the door to the house opened then and Zoe's father entered. He strode purposefully toward them, nodding stiffly toward the prefect. Rhodes, apparently, took that as his cue to make a hasty exit and Zoe wondered, briefly, why the boy seemed so keen to take his leave.

"Sit down," her father said quietly to the twelve first years before him, bringing up the lamps in the common room with a sweep of his wand.

As her peers made their way toward the various sofas, chairs and cushions in the immediate vicinity, Zoe took a seat on the floor in front of a settee just to her father's right. She looked up at him, but he didn't acknowledge her any differently than he did the other children.

"I am Professor Snape and, as Head of Slytherin House, it is my duty to oversee the dormitories, observe and evaluate your academic progress, as well as attend to your overall well-being as young witches and wizards. My office, should you need to locate it, is on the third floor through the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom."

Zoe looked around at her peers whose attention was trained intently upon her father, who had continued to talk. She looked back up at him.

"Slytherin House typically comprises of students who are hard-working, cunning, and resourceful—traits each of you likely possess, among other things. These characteristics are what others will use to define you, and yet, know that there is more that marks a true Slytherin. I am certain each of you will redefine our house as you learn and grow—as every Slytherin before you has done."

"As you embark on your studies, you will find that some subjects come easier than others do and that each of your strengths will not necessarily be the same as your peers. However, every subject is important. Therefore, it is encouraged that, should you fall behind or have difficulty grasping a particular theory, that you seek guidance from your teachers, your prefects, or myself. As Slytherins, we assist each other so that together we will be strong. Remember that."

Zoe found herself nodding at his words.

"Now, I'm sure you will each become quite aware of the House points system in the coming weeks. Obviously, your studies are your main priority, but every strive you take toward academic excellence gives you the opportunity to earn points for your House. This is not an entirely…fruitless endeavor."

"As for rule-breaking, I'd advise you leave such foolishness to the likes of the other houses for, should any Slytherin be brought before me for curfew violations, dueling, horseplay, or any other such nonsense, that young witch or wizard will understand very well the full-extent of my intolerance for such antics."

Zoe looked around at her peers once more and was surprised at the general horrified looks upon their faces. Whereas she felt that her father's speech was rather to-the-point and lacking in embellishment, her fellow first years seemed to be thoroughly intimidated by their black-robed Head of House.

"As first years, during your first term," her father continued in his low, silky voice, "you will be required to participate in a weekly, hour-long, group study-session held here in the common room and overseen by one of the sixth or seventh year prefects. These serve to acclimate you to your course load and will be a time to come forth with any concerns you may have regarding your lessons. These are mandatory and irrefutable so any instances of skiving or insubordination will be brought to my attention. Are there any questions?"

Nobody spoke; all the first years merely shook their heads fervently. Zoe's father inclined his head.

"Very well. To bed."

It seemed to be the consensus that nobody wanted to be told twice by this formidable man, for everyone jumped out of their seats quickly to hurry down their respective corridors. Zoe stood quickly as well, but dallied a bit in the common room and, as the last of her peers left, she locked eyes with her father and gave him a small smile which he returned with a nod of his head before exiting Slytherin House.

As she entered into her room, Cecilia Aaron glared daggers at Zoe. She didn't know what she had done to cause this girl to dislike her, but she was curious as to how they were going to live with each other for the entire term.

Immediately, Zoe spotted her trunk and rucksack at the foot of a very comfortable-looking four-poster bed with dark green curtains. There were no windows in the dungeon bedroom, but on the ceiling there was a round porthole that looked up into the lake. Zoe couldn't wait for the light of the morning so that she could watch the fish and other creatures that resided there swim by.

Beside her bed, she had her own table and tiny desk. It wasn't a lot, but there was plenty of space for her to put her books and spare school supplies. Opposite her bed, there was a wardrobe and when Zoe opened it up, she was marveled to find that all of her clothes and robes had been hung or neatly folded inside and her shoes set on the shelf below. She was also amazed to find that the plain, black school robes her father had bought her were now embroidered with the crest of Slytherin on the left side.

"There's something on your bed."

Zoe looked up at the sour girl that she would now be sharing a room with.

"What?" she asked.

"There is something on your bed," Cecilia said a bit louder, apparently under the impression that Zoe was deaf.

Zoe got up and strode over to look and, sure enough, there were two boxes set in the very center of her bed. Both were wrapped in plain brown paper and on top, there was a note. Zoe picked up the piece of rolled parchment and read:

_Congratulations on your sorting into Slytherin. I am very pleased and I know that you will work hard to uphold the name of our noble house. And, seeing as you have now reached a very distinguished age of eleven, I thought that you may wish to have this. Open the smaller box._

Zoe looked down at her bed and grabbed for the tiny wrapped parcel, ripping the paper off in one tear. Until this moment, she had completely forgotten that today was her birthday! She supposed all the excitement of finally getting to go to Hogwarts had caused the event to completely slip her mind, but her father had remembered and for that, she loved him more than anything.

Once the paper had been removed, Zoe sat there holding a black, velvet-covered box. Her father had never gotten her anything but books or clothing for her birthday before, yet what was this?

Carefully, she opened the top of the little box and gasped.

"What is it?" Cecilia asked scornfully from her own bed.

"It's a…necklace," Zoe said, pulling the fine silver chain out of the box and holding the little charm in her hand. It was a tiny hummingbird consisting of a silver framework. Inlaid in the body of the little bird was a solitary emerald. Zoe simply stared at the gift for the longest time, not knowing what else to do. Even Cecilia leaned over to get a better look at the beautiful piece of jewelry. Eventually, Zoe went back to the note.

_The necklace was your mother's, given to her by her mother and I felt that it was only right that you receive it. The emerald is, of course, your mother's birthstone and not yours, but I felt the colors were fitting for your house and chose to keep it that way. I hope you enjoy this and keep it close to your heart._

_Papa_

Zoe couldn't believe her gift. Never before had her father given her anything of her mother's. For that matter, she didn't even know her father had things that had belonged to her mother. Zoe pondered over this curiosity for the briefest of moments before brushing it off to look into the larger box that was from Minerva. There was also a note attached to this one.

_I can never hope to trump your father's gift, but I do hope you get some enjoyment out of this nonetheless. Happy birthday, Zoe!_

_M_

_P.S. As your godmother, I do hope you enjoy the jokes, but in my other capacity, I urge you to make sure that I don't see it. And…don't tell your father._

Inside, Zoe found a whole stash of Chocolate Frogs and a brand new box of Every-Flavor Beans to supplement the box Zoe had bought on the train. As she pulled out the laughing powder Minerva had bought for her from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Zoe grinned from ear to ear. _This may come in handy with my uptight roommate,_ she thought maliciously.

"Who are your gifts from?" Cecilia asked, clearly disgusted that Zoe had had gifts awaiting her upon her arrival in their dormitory.

"From my father and godmother. It's my birthday today and neither of them got the chance to give them to me earlier in the day so they, er, had them sent here," Zoe explained.

"Excellent. Happy birthday," Cecilia said dismissively before turning over to go to sleep.

Zoe stuck her tongue out at her roommate's back. She sincerely hoped this wasn't going to go on all term. Stowing her gifts away in her trunk, she changed into her pajamas, crawled into bed, and extinguished the candles. It wasn't long before she faded into a deep sleep.

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><p><strong><em>They say that the quickest way to an author's heart is to post reviews to their chapters. I tend to agree.<em>**


	7. The Study of Magic

**_Sorry I've been a horrible updater lately. Life ran away with me... Hopefully, this chapter will lessen any thoughts you may have had regarding my standing as a decent, uncruel person for making you wait so long (yes, I'm aware that uncruel is not a word). It's a bit shorter than previous chapters but, without further ado, chapter 7._  
><strong>

**_Enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>The Study of Magic<strong>

Zoe awoke early the next day and, slowly opening her eyes, she looked up through a gap in the green curtains of her four-poster bed at the round portal in the ceiling of her dormitory. It wasn't large, perhaps only two feet in diameter, but it was just big enough to view the life of the lake. Though the rising sun was only permeating enough to allow her to see the greenish-blue hue of the water instead of the vast blackness that had been there the previous night, Zoe lay in her bed and stared up at it with the hope that a creature would swim by—a grindylow or a mermaid. Maybe, the rumored giant squid she'd heard about at dinner the night before would make an appearance.

After many minutes, Zoe resigned herself to the fact that it was still very early and, perhaps, mermaids were late risers. Therefore, she got out of bed and rushed across the chilly, stone floor into the bathroom she was happy to learn she would only have to share with her one roommate.

She showered quickly and dressed, toweling her hair dry as much as she could before grabbing up her rucksack and wand and leaving the dormitory.

As she navigated the dungeons, she realized that Patrick Rhodes had been right the previous night—the castle was a bit confusing to get around. The dungeon corridors alone seemed labyrinthine and Zoe passed by several doors she couldn't recall passing by the night before. As she continued on, she was certain she should have already come to the main stairwell up into the Entrance Hall.

It wasn't until she had spent nearly fifteen minutes trying to leave the dungeons that she finally conceded the fact that she was lost. Taking another turn in the corridor, she paused.

"Can anyone help me?" she said aloud to the empty corridor in the hope that someone might hear her. It was no use, either the other students had yet to leave the dormitories, or they had already made their way up to the Great Hall for breakfast…or she was so far away from any of the more inhabited areas of the castle that nobody was near enough to hear her.

_Great, lost on my first day and well on my way to missing breakfast,_ Zoe thought to herself. _Oh, why didn't I pay more attention last night?_

Shaking her head at her stupidity, Zoe sat down in one of the alcoves and tried back-tracking the steps she had taken the previous night down to the Slytherin common room, but it was no use. The more she thought about it, the more she reckoned she would be lucky to remember the hasty way in which she had come this morning. This was highly aggravating.

Finally giving in to the fact that she may just have to wait here until someone happened by, she looked up to see a large door in front of her. It looked just like any other door she had passed down here in the dungeons, but this one had a copper plaque attached to the very center that read:

**Private Laboratory and Potions Store Room  
><strong>**of Professor Severus Snape**

Zoe's heart leaped up into her throat. Her father could help her get out of here. Surely, he knew the castle much better than she did.

Leaping to her feet, Zoe strode resolutely to the door and pounded on it before stepping back to wait. There was no reply. Thinking now, Zoe figured it had probably been a bit wishful of her to believe that he would be in his laboratory this early in the morning when he had lessons to prepare for the day. She hunched her shoulders again and shook her head.

Now she was really starting to worry. What if she never got out of here and she missed her first day of classes? She would be in so much trouble. Zoe walked, defeated, toward the wall beside the door to slump against the tapestry hung there, but as she leaned against it, the thick fabric gave way beneath her and she fell backward into a narrow, winding stone stairwell.

Zoe was entirely surprised to find herself no longer in the dungeon corridor and, as she disentangled her legs from the tapestry and allowed it to fall back into place in front of her, she suddenly heard the unmistakable murmur of a large group of people. She looked up the dark passage of steps and rose cautiously to her feet. Could this lead up into the Great Hall?

She looked briefly back at the tapestry then looked up. Well, there was only one way to find out. So, resolved, Zoe started up the winding steps. As she ascended, the murmur grew louder and suddenly she was walking through the back of a similar tapestry as she found herself in the granite-covered splendor of the Entrance Hall. The massive doors of the Great Hall stood open a mere few yards from her with the sounds of students talking animatedly beyond.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting next to a couple of third years at the Slytherin table eating her second piece of toast and drinking pumpkin juice when Cecilia sat down beside her, an angry expression on her face.

"Why didn't you wake me up when you got up?"

Zoe shrugged. "I didn't know you wanted me to."

"I thought it was common courtesy considering we share a room, but I guess not," the girl scoffed.

"I guess not," Zoe mumbled as she took another sip of her juice. "Besides, I got up really early. I thought maybe you wanted to lie in a bit longer."

Cecilia shrugged noncommittally and reached for a platter of eggs.

By the time Zoe finished eating, she was happy to see that her father had already started to make his way down the table, handing out each student's class schedule. She personally couldn't wait to get into her first class and start learning spells. Soon, her father approached her and Cecilia.

"Good morning, Professor Snape. You look well rested. Are you having a good morning so far?" one of the fourth year boys across the table from her—who Zoe recalled seeing several times at some of the events at Malfoy Manor—greeted her father. He looked up at the sandy-haired boy impassively.

"Quinton Avery," he acknowledged with indifference, then gave a sigh. "If you must be obsequious, I suggest you limit the tactics of flattery to the classroom where it's more likely to do you some good. Here is your class schedule."

Zoe snorted into her pumpkin juice—he could spot a brownnoser from a mile away—as her father tapped his wand to a small sheet of parchment he had conjured and handed it to the fourth year who now wore a distinct grimace on his face.

"Now, first years…" he said, rounding on Zoe and Cecilia and conjuring two more sheets of parchment which he tapped in turn and handed to each of the girls. "Your schedules."

Cecilia looked down on her schedule briefly but laid it to the side of her plate and continued eating. Zoe also only glanced at her agenda for the week, but she would have it memorized shortly.

"Thank you," she said to her father, smiling up at him. She hoped that he noticed that she was wearing the hummingbird necklace. He nodded slightly as his eyes settled on his daughter's still fairly-damp, brown locks. He spun his wand over her head, instantly drying her hair.

"It would not set a good first impression to show up to your first class with wet hair, would it, Miss Agnew?" he asked.

Zoe touched the top of her head and looked up at him sheepishly. "No, sir," she said.

He nodded again and began to walk away before he turned back quickly. "And Miss Agnew?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Make sure you read your timetable carefully."

Zoe looked down at the parchment in her hands and nodded. It just looked like an ordinary schedule: she would be starting with Transfiguration that morning followed by History of Magic before lunch then it was double Potions in the afternoon. She wouldn't have her father's class for the first time until the following afternoon in addition to Charms and Herbology in the morning. Astronomy would be held at midnight on Wednesdays. Everything seemed in order, but in the next instant, she blinked, and the words had rearranged themselves into a message in her father's cramped, yet regal handwriting.

_Zoe—_

_Have a good first day. Pay attention in your lessons, there is much to learn. Also, come to my office at the completion of classes today and we will have tea._

_Papa_

As suddenly as it had appeared, it was once more her schedule. Zoe looked up to her father who was much farther down the table now, but he wasn't looking at her. She quickly looked around to make sure that none of the other children had noticed the message that had been temporarily in place of her class schedule, but none of them seemed to have seen a thing.

Her first ever lesson at Hogwarts was Transfiguration—one of the subjects she was most interested in. She was excited when she stepped into the large classroom and saw the familiar face of Mr. Lupin—_Professor_ _Lupin now_, she reminded herself—sitting at the front behind his desk. He smiled warmly at her as she took a seat toward the front of the classroom next to one of her housemates, Lottie Wickham, a petite, raven-haired girl who looked quite nervous to be there. Zoe gave her own smile to the girl, who returned it apprehensively, before taking out her book.

"Good morning," Professor Lupin said good-naturedly once the group of Slytherin and Gryffindor first years had all entered and taken their seats. "My name is Professor Lupin and you all are here to learn the complex theory and practical art of Transfiguration. Due to the intricate nature of this form of magic as well as the inherent dangers associated with it, I must first caution you that messing around in any way is likely to land you in a situation in which you do not wish to be. I don't particularly enjoy sending my students to the hospital wing, nor do I like handing out detentions or extra assignments, but I will if I must to make sure everyone remains safe while they learn. If you work hard, listen, and follow directions carefully, you are likely to find that I can be rather liberal in my presentation of house points. Does this sound agreeable to everyone?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin," the class said collectively.

He nodded once and came around to the front of his desk, leaning against it with his ankles crossed in front of him, as he called the roll. He lingered for a moment on Zoe's name and her face, as well as on a few others in the class, before striding to a low bookshelf against the wall to Zoe's right and picking up a small box.

"I would like to jump right in to our first transfiguration of the year, just to see how you all fare with it. Ah, let's see… Zoe?"

Zoe had been watching the professor and listening, but she perked up instantly upon hearing her name. Professor Lupin waved her over to him. She rose from her desk and approached him.

"Hello. How are you?"

"Good, Professor," Zoe responded and Lupin nodded again.

"Excellent. Would you mind taking this box and distributing one of the items inside to each of your classmates?"

Zoe nodded and turned away. Opening the box revealed a large collection of matchsticks, which she began placing on the desk in front of every student in the room as Professor Lupin explained what they would be doing.

"We are going to attempt to transfigure a matchstick into a needle. But first, can anyone tell me what heading this kind of a transfiguration falls under?"

He looked about the room. Nearly all the students were shifting uncomfortably in their seats or otherwise avoiding his eye so as not to be called upon to answer. Zoe had finished her distribution and was making her way back to her desk. As she did so, she locked eyes with the Professor who gave her a nearly imperceptible nod, encouraging Zoe to answer the question if she knew it. As she once more resumed her seat next to Lottie, she spoke.

"I think it's just a transformation," she said.

Professor Lupin smiled warmly. "Your thinking is spot-on," he said and then began to lecture a bit on the four different kinds of transfigurations—transformation, vanishment, conjuration, and untransfiguration—and explained that the only area they would be focusing on as first years and, most likely second years, would be transformation.

"Although this is a first year-level step in growing in the field of transfiguration, it is important to note that transformation also covers many of the most advanced areas of the subject including human transfigurations and trans-species transformations—which we will work on a bit in your fifth year as well as at the N.E.W.T. level, should you all wish to continue on," Professor Lupin stated.

He looked for a moment around the room, waiting for the last of the note-taking to cease before he pulled his wand from within his grey teaching robes.

"Quills, books and parchment away. Everyone take out your wands. Let's see what you can do."

There was an excited atmosphere in the room now as all the children quickly shuffled to put their notes away and take out their wands. Zoe, herself, was anxious to try out some transfigurations. Of all the spells she had tried in the weeks after she got her wand, she hadn't dared anything from this particular branch of magic lest she do something irreversible to something in the house.

"Watch just here," Lupin said as he moved toward the front, middle desk of the classroom and took up the match that was lying in front of a bulky Gryffindor boy. "You don't mind my demonstrating with your match, do you, Magnus?"

"No, sir," Magnus said politely and Lupin nodded, holding the match flat in the palm of his hand.

"The incantation is simple. Repeat after me: _Verto_."

"_Verto_," Zoe said with her classmates. Her exhilaration was rising with each passing moment. She wanted to _try_ already.

Professor Lupin nodded his approval, then focused his attention on the match in his hand and said the incantation. Zoe sat, as amazed as her peers, as they watched the little match shudder and change into a silvery sewing needle.

"Wicked!" one of the Slytherin boys nearest the professor exclaimed, then almost instantly blushed, and quieted as every eye in the room had fallen upon him.

"Not to worry, Thomas…" Lupin said, smiling down on the Slytherin boy. "Dalrymple, correct?"

The boy nodded to Lupin. "Yes, sir."

"Would you like to be the first to try it on your own?"

Thomas Dalrymple didn't say yes or no, he simply held his wand with conviction and looked upon his match seriously, as if it were an adversary to overcome.

"_Verto_," he said, pointing his wand at the match.

The whole class watched—some students standing up in their seats or peering around others—to see the matchstick shudder, just as Professor Lupin's had, before remaining, very much, a matchstick. Zoe saw Thomas's shoulders slump as all her classmates settled back into their seats, nearly as disappointed, it seemed.

Lupin put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do not be discouraged. This is only your first class and we are barely into it. I assure you, you will get it." He looked up at the whole class. "Why doesn't everyone try?"

Having eagerly awaited their cue, every student immediately began waving their respective wands over their matches. The classroom became loud with students incanting _Verto_ over and over again as Professor Lupin walked around to observe or assist when needed.

Zoe, having been anxious from the start, turned to her match but was distracted when she looked to see that Lottie hadn't even taken her wand up yet. It was sitting untouched on the desk and the girl was sitting perfectly quiet, watching her seatmate. She seemed to be waiting to see how Zoe fared with her attempt first.

However, Zoe wasn't exactly comfortable with that. Therefore, she turned to the other girl and stuck out her hand.

"I'm Zoe Agnew. We didn't meet properly last night in the common room."

The raven-haired girl looked down at Zoe's hand for a moment and then took it to shake it.

"Lottie. Lottie Wickham."

Zoe nodded once and then eyed the other girl's wand lying atop the desk.

"Er, do you want to try our transfiguration together?" she offered up. "That way we aren't so nervous."

Lottie looked to her match and wand and bit her lip anxiously. She looked up to Zoe again.

"It's just that… I didn't even know anything about magic," she whispered. "I don't know how to do it."

Zoe cocked her head to the side. "So, you're Muggleborn?"

Lottie nodded apprehensively, looking around her to make sure nobody was listening in. "You don't mind, do you? I heard on the train that some people here don't like Muggleborns and, then, last night Persimmon and Abby… well… they made a comment about… about people like me and, well, I don't think they'll like me much if they find out."

Zoe really felt for this girl. She tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"Of course, I don't mind," she said back, equally as low. "My mum was a Muggle and my father says that that's an old prejudice. Those girls aren't any better than either of us."

Lottie smiled then, genuinely.

"Thanks, Zoe. That makes me feel loads better. But… I still don't know about the wand."

Zoe grinned. "Don't worry. My father is a wizard, but I wasn't really allowed to do magic until I got my wand a few weeks ago. I'm pretty sure almost all of us are trying these spells for the first time."

That really seemed to make Lottie feel better and Zoe felt content that she had reassured the girl. Perhaps she could be friends with her as well. After all, she already liked Lottie heaps more than she liked Cecilia.

Just as Zoe and Lottie had turned to their respective matches to begin practicing, Professor Lupin approached their desk.

"Have we had any luck yet, girls?"

"We were just about to try," Lottie explained.

Lupin smiled kindly and nodded his encouragement. "Please, don't let me stop you."

Lottie said the incantation and waved her wand as instructed, but with little success. After another word of encouragement from their professor to keep trying, she and Lupin turned collectively toward Zoe.

Zoe stared down at the match, trying to think of it as a needle. She waved her wand. "_Verto_."

The match shook in its place upon her desk as Zoe tried to remain focused. After several moments, she saw the wood flash silver for an instant and then remain as a match. Zoe let out a breath and looked up at Lupin, who was smiling fondly at her.

"_That_ was excellent, Zoe. Did you notice the change of the wood?"

Zoe nodded, reeling a bit even just from the minute change in her matchstick.

Lupin squatted down next to her desk then to speak only to her.

"I want you to try again. This time, try not to envision the match turning into a needle but, rather, that there is only a needle sitting before you and not a match at all."

"I'll try," Zoe said, straightening herself on her chair.

"Take a moment to think about it if you have to," Lupin said, still crouched beside her.

Zoe closed her eyes for a moment and some of the words her father had spoken to her as she had practiced morphing her eyes came back to her.

_Take a deep breath. Feel your magic course within you._

Zoe reopened her eyes and focused. She could see the needle in her mind's eye—tiny, just as needles were. She enlarged it in her head for better viewing.

"_Verto_," she incanted once more, almost stating the word unconsciously.

Her eyes widened when she watched as her needle not only changed from wood to metal, but elongated and thickened. After it had finished growing, she stared at it a moment before looking to her professor who had stood. He scratched his head.

"Well, I suppose it is still a needle," Professor Lupin said, picking up the object from Zoe's desk which now resembled more of a knitting needle—aside from the definitive eye on one end. He examined it curiously as whispers broke out around amongst her peers.

"Perhaps I should have specified a normal-sized sewing needle, but I didn't expect—" He stopped himself and looked down at Zoe, wiping the perplexed look from his face. He smiled. "I suppose I should have, considering…nevermind. Well done, Zoe. You may count yourself as the first first-year to turn your matchstick. Ten points to Slytherin."

The bell rang then.

"Class dismissed," the professor said distractedly as he walked back to his desk, the enlarged needle still in his hand.

Zoe gathered her things and left, trying not to think about why Professor Lupin had seemed so strange about her transfiguration.

"That was brilliant, Zoe!" Lottie said as the two girls walked swiftly down the corridor toward their next class. "How did you do it?"

"I—" Zoe wasn't entirely sure. "I just thought about it being a needle, but it was too small in my head, so I made it bigger. I didn't think it would do that, exactly."

"Well, I think it was excellent," said Lottie. "Did you see Persimmon and Cecilia's faces? They were jealous that you did it first."

Zoe shrugged, but didn't feel like saying anything more about it as they entered into the History of Magic classroom. Once again, it looked like they would share the lesson with the Gryffindors.

History of Magic was taught by an elderly witch named Professor Quigley-Smythe. She was average-height, round and white-haired, but she had a warm smile and an exciting, youthful demeanor. She explained to the class that she would encourage discussion over lecture at any time and even instructed that the students bring in at least one open-ended question regarding their readings to each lesson. Though Zoe had never been much for history, she imagined she was going to like this teacher.

After lunch, Zoe had just enough time to drop off her Transfiguration and History texts in her dormitory and exchange them with her Potions book before she had to make her way toward the dungeon classroom.

A wizard by the name of Professor Goode taught Potions. An athletic-looking, dark-haired wizard whose trainers could be seen beneath his teaching robes, he seemed to be a very kind, supportive teacher, despite his beginning of term lecture being very stern.

"Brewing potions is dangerous. Plain and simple," Goode had said, walking between the aisles as he inspected the individual supplies of each student for assurance that it was up to standards. "I expect you to maintain your cauldron and other tools—keep them clean and store them properly—and to use the utmost caution when dealing with _any_ ingredient regardless of its potency, poisonousness, combustibility, flammability, or lack thereof."

Zoe had sat on the edge of her stool next to Lottie, leaning forward over the workbench with her brand new potions supplies displayed neatly before her, listening to every word her professor spoke. After all, she _was_ a bit interested in potions—especially those her father had refused to allow her to brew until she had some more magical training under her belt. Despite Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts being the real standouts as far as subjects Zoe was interested in, she wanted to do her best in Potions because, well, her father loved making potions and she didn't want to disappoint him in the subject she knew he loved every bit as much as Defense.

"Anyone caught messing around or neglecting to be mindful of the correct process involved in potion-making will be dismissed from class immediately and you will not come back until you can prove to me that you are capable of the seriousness needed for this subject," Professor Goode continued as he came to where Zoe was sitting. He gave her a small smile as he inspected her cauldron and silver knife for defects before moving on to her set of scales.

"Goblin-made. Impressive. It's clear you are the daughter of a potioneer," he commented, glancing to Zoe briefly. Zoe grinned.

"Yes, sir. My father said the other scales aren't as accurate."

Goode eyed her skeptically. "I'm sure the first-year kit scales will be more than sufficient for our needs," he stated so that the entire class could hear.

Zoe's heart dropped and her face flushed in embarrassment. She shouldn't have gloated and stated what really was nothing more than her father's opinion. What was the matter with her? She wasn't normally so boastful.

Professor Goode finished inspecting her scales and moved toward the workbench behind her where two Hufflepuff girls were sitting. Before he stepped past Zoe, however, he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Though I generally share your father's opinion," he said, and then moved away leaving Zoe grinning with relief.

Unfortunately, Professor Goode didn't let them brew anything that day. Instead, he said that they would be spending the first few class periods learning proper safety techniques and studying portion sizes. It seemed pretty boring to Zoe, but she was intent to do her best and study hard no matter what.

* * *

><p>As soon as she was released from her Potions class, Zoe ran down the dungeon corridor to her dormitory, dropped off her book bag and then made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom several floors up. She wasn't entirely sure where it was yet, but after stopping a Gryffindor prefect and asking for directions, Zoe finally stood in front of the door to her father's office.<p>

She reached up, knocked on the door, and waited. Several moments passed by before the door was suddenly flung open and James Potter stormed out, muttering angrily under his breath. He paused to glare at Zoe for a beat before pushing past her and stomping his way out of the classroom. Zoe watched him go, perplexed.

"Come in, Zoe," her father's deep voice said and Zoe turned to look through the door at him.

Her father was sitting behind his desk with a pleased expression on his face. When Zoe had entered and closed the door behind her, he moved to a small table near the fire where a tray of tea and biscuits was already waiting. He brought the tray to his desk and started to serve it.

"What was that all about?" Zoe asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"What was what all about?"

Zoe wrinkled her forehead. "That was that boy from King's Cross. James. He seemed…a bit angry."

Her father handed her a teacup on a saucer and nodded as he resumed his seat and took a sip from his own cup.

"Yes," he began, "I imagine he isn't very happy about receiving a week's worth of detention on the first day of term."

"What did he do?" Zoe asked, her eyes wide, as she stood to make use of the sugar bowl.

Her father eyed her as she dumped two teaspoons into her cup. She would prefer three, but since her father had started allowing her to drink tea with him nearly a year ago, she knew that two teaspoons would go unmentioned, whereas three nearly always got her a stern look and perhaps a reprimand.

"Not that it is really any of your business," her father said as Zoe took her seat once more, stirring her tea. "But he felt it was practical to disrupt my lesson today with a childish prank."

"Oh."

She took a sip of her tea, knowing all too well that her father was unlikely to be the kind of professor that would tolerate such antics in his classroom. Apparently, James hadn't learned anything from his encounter with her father at the train station.

She sat silently for a few minutes, looking around the office. She recognized many of the various specimens that were housed on the shelves that lined the walls as coming from her father's laboratory at home. It also looked as if he had brought nearly half of the book collection from his study for use while he was here.

Zoe set her cup down on its saucer, placed them on her father's desk, and rose from her chair. She wanted to look around.

She approached the shelves to the side of her father's desk, running her hands over the spines of the books. Many of them were written in runes, so Zoe couldn't read them. As she silently perused the titles in their new home, she suddenly remembered the birthday gift she had received the night before. She spun around and approached her father, flinging her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely, and making him very nearly tip his tea onto the floor.

"Thank you so much for the necklace, Papa!" she said.

Her father, as usual, seemed surprised by her affectionate display, but he eventually placed his teacup and saucer onto his desk and wrapped his own arms around her, embracing her. "You are quite welcome."

"I never thought I'd ever have anything of Mum's."

"So you like it?"

Zoe pulled away just enough so that her father could see her smile. "Very much," she said as she turned to lean against his leg.

Her father reached a hand up and took the tiny hummingbird in his hand.

"It is…" He gulped. Zoe thought he looked almost uncomfortable for a split second as he gazed upon the little charm before he composed himself and looked right into her eyes. "It is as lovely on you as it was on her," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in an uncharacteristic sort of half-smile. "I'm pleased that you like it."

Zoe smiled too. She genuinely loved the gift her father had given her and the fact that he thought she looked as lovely as her mother had… Well, he'd never complimented her in such a way before, but she liked hearing it.

For several moments they didn't say anything, but eventually, her father shifted and Zoe pushed away from him to make her way back around to sit in the chair across from him, taking up her teacup once more.

"How were your first classes?" her father asked as he pulled what looked like a memo toward him and scanned it before rolling it up, tossing it on his desk and locking eyes with Zoe.

"They were great! I had Transfiguration today. Professor Lupin said that because he's a werewolf, we would have a substitute teacher during every full moon and he taught us how to turn a match into a needle. It was fascinating!"

"Did you manage it?" her father asked, sitting forward, seemingly very interested.

"Not on my first try," Zoe said, shaking her head. "I just made the match flash silver for a second."

Her father narrowed his eyes momentarily, but quickly went back to watching her attentively. She assumed he was a bit disappointed that she hadn't gotten it the first time and she endeavored to work harder in her next Transfiguration lesson.

"Anyway, I did it the second time—sort of. I, er…" Zoe trailed off. She feared that what happened next would upset or disappoint her father considering how Professor Lupin had reacted to it. Her father merely looked at her, perplexed, and then eyed her sternly when she didn't continue.

"Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to endure a conversation with Professor Lupin?"

"No, you won't have to. I…accidently turned my matchstick into a knitting needle instead of a sewing needle. I didn't really mean to. Everyone acted like it was a big deal, but Professor Lupin didn't seem mad about it or anything. He gave me ten points."

Her father tilted his head to the side and eyed her with suspicion. Zoe didn't understand why he was doing that but she shrugged it off. He seemed to as well.

"You had Potions today. How did that go?"

Zoe stiffened. "Umm… we just talked about safety and stuff. Er, Professor Goode is really nice."

Zoe knew it was a horrible explanation and didn't fully expect her father to let it sit at that, but was surprised when he did.

"I, er, I found your laboratory this morning," she commented after some silence.

Her father raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you? And what, may I ask, took you to that particular part of the dungeons on your first day?"

"I got lost on my way to the Great Hall for breakfast. But I found my way eventually." She didn't really feel like mentioning the secret stairwell she had found that morning.

"Were you not paying attention to the route from the Great Hall last night?"

Zoe fidgeted. "I was looking around."

"Hmm," her father said, disapproval in his tone. "I hope you intend to give your studies much more consideration than you do your navigation of the castle."

"Yes, I will."

Her father nodded curtly. "In any case, it will get easier to get around after you've been here a few weeks," he assured her.

Zoe nodded her head and took another sip of her tea. Her father looked away rather pensively, then locked his eyes back on Zoe.

"How did you find the sorting last night?"

"Aggravating," Zoe stated plainly, but she didn't elaborate. Somehow, she felt like the things she and the Sorting Hat had discussed were private, mostly.

Her father merely smirked and didn't push her to say anything else about it. The rest of their teatime was mostly devoted to discussion of Zoe's thoughts on what her other classes would be like in the coming days while her father came up with the idea of them sharing time together for tea once a week. Zoe thought it was a brilliant plan and, before leaving his office to head to her dormitory for a bit, they had arranged to meet the following Wednesday.

* * *

><p>Overall, Severus felt that his first day back as a professor had been entirely predictable.<p>

The students were just as insolent and dunderheaded as he'd remembered, putting off reading for their new subjects and being generally unpleasant, cheeky little miscreants. They still lacked any sort of drive at any level in their schooling and they were still more concerned with the latest Quidditch standings than with their standings in society.

He'd resorted himself to the mundane idea that teaching was, once again, the career he would be stuck with and that he might as well buckle down and try to make the most of it when he'd had the fortune of catching the Potter boy in the act of being… well, a typical Potter. It had been all too pleasing assigning an inordinate number of detentions for the misbehavior as well. He wasn't quite sure that he had masked his enjoyment from his face before Zoe had walked in…

Truly, Zoe's visit had been the highlight of his day.

She had seemed excited about her classes—genuinely eager to learn—and he'd been reminded of himself at that age. He had been beyond ecstatic to come to Hogwarts as well. Though, whereas beginning school to him had been about learning to be a real wizard, which would ultimately lead him on his way out of poverty and out of his father's home, for Zoe, it was just a strive to do well, to learn, to be the best she could be.

Severus also felt that there was a sense that she wished to please him, to make him proud. But he had meant what he'd said to Minerva not too many weeks before: Zoe was rarely a disappointment to him. And today… she'd not only managed to turn her matchstick into a needle, but she'd somehow also managed to enlarge it—a spell that was typically taught later, perhaps in the second year. Even just the fact that she'd managed to manipulate the material of the match—from wood to silver—on her first attempt was most certainly something to boast about.

Granted, the girl hadn't a clue that what she had done was remarkable. She had seemed almost…worried, perhaps, that she'd somehow done something wrong. Of course, that wasn't the case at all, but a part of Severus couldn't help but be skeptical. After all, that griffin wand of hers could already be rearing some sort of ugly head and he wasn't certain how the temperament of the wand, coupled with Zoe's curiosity and tendency for impulsivity, would manifest itself.

Therefore, he would watch her, talk with her other teachers regarding progress reports, and try not to worry too much about it.

* * *

><p>After she had eaten some dinner, Zoe had left the Slytherin House table and approached the Ravenclaw one in order to talk with Caroline and John for a few minutes before the prefects came to usher the younger students to their dormitories.<p>

Once in their common room, the first years were once again corralled together around some study tables to wait for the Head Boy—a Slytherin this year, by the name of Lukas Andersen—who would come soon to explain to them how the weekly study sessions imposed by their Head of House were going to work.

As they waited, Zoe looked around, observing her fellow first years. She sat next to Lottie and, for some reason, wasn't surprised to see that the other three girls in her house had already formed a clique and were talking animatedly to each other at the table opposite Zoe. Though she hadn't properly met Persimmon or Abigail, Zoe got the distinct impression that, because they had befriended Cecilia, there was little chance that they were going to like her as well.

Persimmon was a dark-skinned girl with tight, sleek, black curls all over her head and, even when amused, seemed to wear an ever-present frown upon her face. She laughed aloud to something Cecilia had said before leaning over to whisper into Abigail's ear, her eyes shifting meanly toward Lottie. Abigail, a girl with blonde, evenly-parted hair, smiled and then nodded her head. The three girls broke out in giggles.

Zoe frowned, but didn't let it get to her. After all, she didn't know what was said and Lottie was so absorbed in her Transfiguration textbook that she hadn't even noticed that she may or may not have been the subject of some form of ridicule. She focused her attention on the boys, all of whom were huddled around each other as they discussed Quidditch.

Zoe recognized Thomas Dalrymple instantly and mused that it was somewhat amusing that the boy's round face held within it a very prominent dimple in each cheek when he smiled. Thomas sat beside the larger boy that Zoe had bumped into the previous night. His name was Michael Pickering and, at the age of eleven, already had the build of a rugby player. Guy Langlais, Jedediah Zabini, and Lucas Sudsworth kept trying to talk over Simon Wolfe who seemed to be the most outspoken of the group, who was trying to convince the other boys the the Tutshill Tornadoes were on an upward climb toward glory this season—and sentiment that was not shared by his housemates, apparently. The last in the group was a pensieve-looking boy with dark skin and piercing blue eyes named Dev Narang. He caught Zoe looking at him and she quickly averted her gaze, just as Andersen finally approached the table.

"All right, all right, quiet down," the tall, very blond, seventeen-year-old said. "Professor Snape believes that first years, in their first term, will benefit from a little bit of extra study time and mentorship in order to acclimate to the rigors of Hogwarts. Therefore, you will all meet each week at these tables for an hour to get help with your homework. The day and time is likely to change from week to week, so make sure to check the notice board every Sunday evening for the changes. Two or three of you will be assigned to each Slytherin prefect, who will be your mentor this term. Those assignments will be posted before next week's meeting. Are there any questions?"

None of the first years moved and a few shook their heads.

"All right, then. For tonight, you're dismissed, but make sure you're all here next week," Andersen said before turning and walking toward the boys' corridor of the dormitory.

"I'm glad we'll have extra study time," Lottie said beside Zoe then. "I don't want to be behind everyone else who's grown up in the wizarding world."

Zoe smiled lightly. "You won't be but, yes, I think they will be a good thing."

Lottie nodded and then began to explain to Zoe a concept she had been reading about in her Transfiguration textbook. Zoe remained interested until she heard Simon say her father's name, gaining her attention. She looked to the opposite table where the boy was now sitting with Cecilia, Persimmon, and Abigail. It seemed that all the other first year boys had dispersed upon their dismissal.

"I can't believe Severus Snape has come back to Hogwarts," he said to the girls. Zoe got the distinct impression that he wasn't happy about it. But what intrigued her most was that he hadn't called him Professor Snape, but had used his first name, as if he knew her father already.

"Do you think he's going to be a good teacher?" Persimmon asked.

Simon shrugged, but didn't get a chance to answer as Cecilia piped up at that time.

"My parents went mad when they found out he was coming back. My mother always said that he was always a rather shifty fellow when he taught at Hogwarts before and my father doesn't trust him at all."

_Shifty?_ Zoe wondered what Cecilia's mother meant by that. Her father _was_ rather introverted at times and could be somewhat standoffish in certain situations. Perhaps that's what was being implied but, _untrustworthy_?

"In any case— Didn't you know it's rude to stare?"

Zoe hadn't realized she was staring at the group as she mulled over what they had said. She blushed instantly.

"Sorry. I was, erm, thinking about something," said Zoe hastily as she turned back toward Lottie who was so absorbed in her reading, she hadn't been paying attention to anything else.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cecilia shake her head and then lean into the group conspiratorially. Zoe couldn't hear what was said, though she imagined she may have been the subject of the giggles a few moments later.

It was maddening, to say the least, but Zoe let it slide off her back. She was more concerned with what she had heard about her father. This was the second time that she had heard something strange about him—Mr. Constantine's statement about him being a hero had been more surprising, though—and not understood what it all meant. Granted, those children had parents who had been taught by her father during their time at school. Perhaps those parents had told stories of the Hogwarts professors as a way to prepare their children for the upcoming school term. Zoe supposed that made sense. But still, neither Simon nor Cecilia had seemed too thrilled with the prospect of their new professor and that intrigued Zoe.

Though, she couldn't imagine what any of them were worried about. After all, her father was an excellent teacher, if Zoe was allowed her opinion—even if he _did_ make her study Latin… and maths.

Zoe shook her head and began to gather her things from the table.

"I think I'm going to go to bed early, Lottie," she said, standing from her chair.

"All right. See you tomorrow, Zoe."

Zoe nodded and walked toward her dormitory. She shook her worries from her head. The other first years had just heard stories from their parents, just like her father had told Zoe stories about Minerva's teaching style when he was in school. It was the same thing. But, really, Zoe knew that the other Slytherins would see tomorrow that her father was just a normal professor.

* * *

><p><strong><em>A recent study was conducted on reviewers of fan fiction... the results showed that those that post reviews are 58 times more likely to enjoy pizza over a dinner of beef liver and brussel sprouts (findings may be made up). <em>**

**_Please review :)_**


	8. The Second Day

**_Look at me! Submitting a second chapter in the same day... you lucky readers, you. (Yes, I'm fishing for compliments...) No, I just already had this chapter written and a certain reader *cough* 1066AndAllThat *cough* rather encouraged me to go ahead and submit it if it was ready so, I did. I hope you guys like this one! There's a bit more drama and a bit more comedy in this chapter than the last, though the length is literally hovering within about six words of each other. Anyway, I talk too much._  
><strong>

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

><p><strong>The Second Day<strong>

Tuesday morning's classes went by quickly and by lunch, Zoe was delightfully anticipating having her first-ever Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with her father. Of course, he had been her primary educator for years, but now he would be teaching her a specialized, magical curriculum and, honestly, she couldn't wait. Although she also wasn't entirely sure what to expect from him since there would be other students to share the lesson with.

After lunch, she walked into the Defense classroom by herself and discovered immediately that the first year Slytherins would be joined by the first year Ravenclaws. It didn't seem that Lottie had been able to save her a seat seeing as the girl was currently sitting next to Dev and giving Zoe a very apologetic look so, spotting Caroline and John near the middle of the classroom, she grinned and made a beeline towards her friends. She sat down in the desk in front of them and next to another Ravenclaw girl with brown hair who she didn't know.

"Hi, Zoe," Caroline said, smiling, as Zoe swiveled around in her seat to face her friends.

"Hi, Caroline. Hey, John," Zoe greeted.

"Hey," John said. "Zoe, this is Glendora." He indicated the girl next to Zoe.

"Glendora Fuchs," the brown-haired girl greeted, holding out her hand for Zoe, who shook it.

"Zoe Agnew. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Glendora responded. "So, what do you think this class is going to be like? I hope it's as fascinating as Transfiguration and Charms…and Potions."

Zoe smiled at her, for she shared the girl's thoughts that many of the subjects were very interesting.

"Oh, and History of Magic was so fascinating…"

"I don't know what it's going to be like," John piped up then. "Dom says Defense is usually great fun. We get to learn hexes and how to Stun people and stuff, but I also heard that Professor Snape can be brutal."

Zoe wrinkled her forehead, confused.

"Yeah, I heard he gave out nine detentions on the first day of school and that he favors certain students," Glendora said.

"Slytherins," Caroline stated then before looking at Zoe. "Do you know if that's true, Zoe? I mean, you're in that house. Has anyone said anything?"

Zoe had started to open her mouth to respond but didn't get the chance, for at that moment, the door to her father's office was flung open with a bang and he walked resolutely into the classroom. He was dressed in his customary black, but Zoe noticed he wore an extra layer of long, billowy academic robes over his normal coat and trousers.

He was frowning as he entered the room but, for some reason, Zoe smirked upon first seeing him. No doubt, intimidation was the effect he was going for, but Zoe found it rather silly and she wasn't intimidated. She knew he had other tactics that he employed which were effective on her, but these were not. However, one glance around the room seeing numerous pairs of wide eyes told her that those tactics were working just fine on every other student there.

"I expect silence during these lessons unless you are spoken to or otherwise engaging in practical exercises," he stated, though he needn't have. His presence alone had demanded the attention of every pupil in the room.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is one of the most important subjects you will be taught whilst at this school for the Dark is ever changing, ever powerful and the lure can be…somewhat unbearable to resist. The spells you will learn and the skills you will acquire here you will take with you for the rest of your life. For keeping the Dark at bay is a life-long pursuit, the responsibility of which falls on every witch, wizard and magical creature in our world."

Zoe would have been lying if she said she wasn't riveted to her father's every word. Her lessons at home had never been half this interesting and he was only introducing the course.

"As you progress, the spells will become much more complex, powerful and dangerous therefore any foolishness or carelessness will not be tolerated. Is this clear to everyone?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," the class conceded as a whole.

And his beginning of term lecture and notices continued. Zoe, already quite aware of her father's expectations, took the opportunity to look around the room. The other children were still rapt, to say the least. Glendora Fuchs, in fact, looked absolutely horrified. Of course, what her father did next didn't help the situation any.

"Turn to page fourteen," he commanded, walking toward the blackboard and using his wand to write 'Light vs. Dark' in bold letters.

The first years started to lazily take their books from their school bags and turn them to the correct page. Zoe had already pulled hers out when she'd entered the classroom, so she waited patiently while the other children complied.

"A little _haste_," her father growled, sneering at the students before him.

Zoe watched as the other children quickly turned their books to the correct page.

"Now who can tell me the difference between Light Magic and Dark Magic?"

When nobody else seemed to know the answer or was willing to give it, Zoe slowly raised her hand into the air. She wasn't eager, but she was certainly willing and, considering her hand was the only one up, she figured her father would call on her.

However, he didn't seem to notice for he turned quickly, strode to his desk and picked up a piece of parchment. He scanned it a moment, then quickly raised his head back to the children before him.

"Mr. Thomas."

John jumped upon hearing his name. "Er, yes, sir?"

"Please answer the question."

Zoe knew that, behind her, John was probably looking down at his book, trying to scan it as fast as he could, hoping the definition would jump out at him from right there on page fourteen. Zoe knew it wouldn't. The difference between Light Magic and Dark Magic wasn't actually defined until nearly halfway through chapter two. Others were doing the same and Zoe couldn't help but wonder what her father was playing at.

"We don't have all day, Mr. Thomas. What is your answer?"

Zoe turned sideways in her seat so as to see John out of the corner of her eye. He looked up again for a moment, then bowed his head.

"I don't know, sir," he said quietly.

"You don't know?" the professor asked in a mocking voice.

"No, sir."

"Pity. Two points from Ravenclaw. How about...Miss Crenshaw?"

A small girl with a long, blonde plait down her back squeaked from the front of the classroom. Zoe's father immediately swooped down upon her.

"What is the difference between Light and Dark, Miss Crenshaw?"

The girl didn't even seem to be able to speak. She merely shook her head vigorously and wrung her hands in her lap. Zoe continued to hold her hand solidly in the air. She knew her father must see it. He'd practically been looking right at her when he'd talked to John.

"Very well. Another two points from Ravenclaw. Let's try again, shall we? Surely someone knows the answer…" His tone was silky, condescending. "How about, let's see…" Zoe's father perused the class roster once again and then a malicious sort of smirk took over his features. "Ah, Mr. Excelsius Bogg."

"Present."

Zoe's eyes went wide as she heard the obvious indifference in the response and she whipped her head around quickly to see who had said it. There was a rather frail-looking boy at the back of the classroom. He was lanky and his murky-brown hair hung into his eyes as if he'd gone too long without a haircut. He sat at a desk by himself and his head was hunched over a piece of parchment. He appeared to be drawing something. He didn't even look up at the professor, merely continued to scratch away at his parchment. Zoe knew that wouldn't go over well.

"I wasn't calling for attendance, Mr. Bogg. What is the answer," Zoe's father stated and she could already hear the annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Dunno," Excelsius responded nonchalantly, shrugging and still refusing to look up.

"Oh, come now. Surely with a name that is at the forefront of magical defense, you have an idea…," her father said, his voice now becoming dangerous.

"Nope," Excelsius said, rolling his eyes and making a popping sound with his lips as he pronounced the 'p'.

Zoe's eyes widened again and she turned back to the front of the classroom just in time to see her father set his roster down and sweep up the aisle, his robes billowing in his wake. When he reached Excelsius Bogg, he grabbed him by the collar of his robes and yanked him out of his seat by force, collecting the boy's book bag from the floor at the same time. Excelsius was dragged to the back of the room and pushed out the door and into the corridor.

At that point, Zoe finally put her hand down. She no longer had the desire to answer the question.

"Out! I refuse to tolerate such blatant apathy and disrespect in my classroom!" she heard the professor yell from the hallway. "You, boy, can go straight to your Head of House and explain to him why you are not in class and when next you enter my classroom, I want to see less doodling and less of an indifference to learning."

When her father reentered the classroom, he slammed the door behind him. Immediately, every student turned to face forward once again. Zoe heard her father let out a puff of air before making his way back to the front.

"Tell me, Mr. Thomas," he began again. "Did you think that it would be worth your while to not open your book before class and have at least a rudimentary understanding of the subject matter? Perhaps you were under the impression that you could stroll in here on your first day and simply be handed all the answers and be spoon-fed all of the material?"

John squirmed in his seat but didn't answer.

"If you did, you were sorely mistaken."

The entire class remained quiet.

"That goes for all of you. I do not intend to hold your hands to get you through your education. While other professors may see the need for remedial classes or extra study sessions for their students, you will receive no such sentiment from me. In my lessons, should you be flippant with your practice and not study sufficiently, your poor marks will be a reflection of you as a poor student. I expect assignments to be handed in on time and any late work will not be accepted. And do not come to me with pleas for extra credit, for they will fall upon deaf ears."

Zoe's father moved to stand behind his desk.

"Now, start reading the chapter on the introduction of hexes and take your own notes. In twenty minutes, we will begin the lecture."

All the students took out parchment and ink. Soon, only the sound of quills scratching could be heard.

Zoe looked up through her eyelashes at her father sitting at this desk. He appeared to be reading a text for his N.E.W.T. class. Every once in a while, he would look up and eye the students before going back to his reading. After one of his glances, Zoe turned around in her chair and looked at John.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

"Yeah," the boy shrugged. "What did I tell you? Brutal."

"But I think it's odd, because—"

"Miss Agnew. Were my instructions for silence not clear?"

Zoe spun around to find that her father was no longer sitting at his desk but was now standing right next to hers, his hands clasped behind his back, staring down his nose at her. She looked up at him but didn't speak.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Yes, sir. They were clear. But—"

"If my instructions were clear, then there should be no reason for 'buts'. However, since your conversation with Mr. Thomas seems so important, perhaps you would like to share it with the entire class?"

Zoe looked around to find that every single set of eyes in the room were watching the exchange closely. She could feel her cheeks flushing in embarrassment and she was suddenly very angry that her father was singling her out in this way. After all, she had been the only one who knew the answer to his question. She had clearly raised her hand and she had been ignored. And now, she was just trying to make sure that her friend wasn't too upset over their professor's—her father's—verbal abuse. He had no reason to be so nasty.

With that thought in mind, Zoe looked defiantly up into her father's smirking face.

"I just wanted to make sure that John could still concentrate after you criticized him for no reason, _Professor_," she stated boldly.

Zoe heard gasps and a few sniggers. Her father raised a single eyebrow at her, but remained aggravatingly composed as he turned away and walked back toward his desk.

"Five points from Slytherin," he said casually. "And your cheek has earned you a detention tonight, Miss Agnew. See me after class."

Zoe sunk down into her chair. Detention. With her father. This couldn't be good. She was quite angry with him for his classroom demeanor but, as usual, her mouth had gotten her into trouble and any sway she may have had with him to change before had certainly gone out the window now.

Besides, what kind of a student got detention on their second day of school? She might as well be James Potter…

* * *

><p>When class had ended Zoe stowed the copious amount of notes she had taken as well as her book away in her bag and remained sitting at her desk, glaring up at her father who was wiping the blackboard clean with a wave of his wand.<p>

"See you at dinner, Zoe," Caroline said, placing a consoling hand on Zoe's shoulder.

"Yeah, see you," Zoe responded as she caught Lottie's eye and gave her a reassuring nod.

It only took a few moments before all the other students had filed out. Zoe watched as her father waved his wand again and the door behind her closed with a smart click. The professor then proceeded to collapse into his chair and tossed his wand onto a stack of papers on his desk before looking down at his recalcitrant daughter with a resolved stare. He sighed.

"That was quite the display of insubordination, young lady," he commented, his tone dry. "I'm sure your classmates were thoroughly impressed."

Zoe narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

"That was quite the display from you, too," she stated irreverently, feeling a surge of boldness.

Her father eyed his daughter with authority. "You would do well to watch your attitude," he warned.

Zoe quieted and for a minute or two, father and daughter merely stared at each other.

"You don't have to be like that, you know," she stated then.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like _what_? Like…that!" Zoe practically shouted, waving her hand at the classroom in an attempt to make her father understand that she was referring to his last lesson. Though she was certain he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Like it's you against the students."

Her father huffed.

"It is not for you to question my teaching methods in front of other students, Zoe. If you don't like them, that's fine, but you may take it up with me after class or at some other time in private. Your cheek will only serve to earn you detention so I don't want to hear it in my classroom again. Is that clear?"

Zoe continued to glare at her father, breathing through her nostrils and wanting nothing more than to scream at him.

"Is. That. Clear?" he asked forcefully, gritting his teeth and Zoe knew he wouldn't ask again.

_Fine_. "Yes," she finally conceded, slouching back in her seat and looking away.

"Yes…?"

"Yes, sir."

Her father nodded once. "Your detention will be at seven o'clock in my office. I wouldn't suggest you be late."

Figuring that was her dismissal, Zoe gathered up her bag and stood, walking toward the back of the classroom toward the door. When she was nearly into the corridor, she turned back and frowned at her father once more.

"Why do you have to be such a bully?" she asked, and then walked away before her father could answer her or call her back.

* * *

><p>"This is certainly impressive," Minerva McGonagall chided, an air of carefully-controlled, amused annoyance in her tone as she looked over the parchment in her hands. "You've assigned sixteen detentions in the first two days of term. Congratulations, Severus, I do believe this is a new record for you."<p>

Severus took another sip of his tea. "Every single one of them was richly deserved, I assure you."

"Do I even want to know how many House points you deducted?"

"Ah, let's see," Severus said, a smug gleam in his eye, "only eighteen in total from Hufflepuff—apparently they're all too timid this early in the year to misbehave too much. Forty-one, I believe, from Ravenclaw, which houses students who apparently aren't nearly as clever nor as prepared as they would like everyone to believe. And eighty-six from Gryffindor—big surprise there, troublemakers all."

Minerva frowned. "I see. And Slytherin?"

There was a pause. "Five," the man finally mumbled, sipping his tea again.

"Hmm." Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval and laid the paper down, eyeing her Defense professor wearily. "I understand that you have a certain…persona you wish to keep intact, but is it really necessary to instill such animosity and resentment?"

Severus stared at the Headmistress with conviction. "Is it not our primary duty as educators to prepare these children from the time they step into this school as first years and leave it as adults? To make sure that they are ready to face the world as capable witches and wizards? My students, in addition to learning Defense, will know that they are not going to be handed everything they like on a silver platter and that rules apply to all."

Minerva gave Severus a withering glare. "Severus, you made Excelsius Bogg cry. Filius said the boy was upset that you had insulted his family."

"He was being insolent." Severus waved off Minerva's sentimentality. "Besides, if the Boggs wish to parade around as if they are the foremost experts on Dark Arts defense…" he trailed off, obviously keeping the more uncouth parts of his opinion to himself.

Minerva sighed heavily again. "Very well. However, sixteen is quite a few detentions. Do you wish to take them all on yourself or split them up throughout the week? I believe Professor Longbottom has the first rotation for the term…"

"Longbottom will do for most of them. There are two I shall take on personally."

Minerva nodded and once more took up the parchment.

"Yes, James Potter the younger. I see you've given him detention every night this week. A dung bomb, wasn't it?"

"Yes, in the middle of my beginning-of-term lecture. Arrogant, uncivilized boy. He is obviously under the impression he's above any sort of rules. I'm starting to believe it's a genetic trait."

"It's a little mischief, Severus, honestly. I seem to recall a young Slytherin boy with quite the predilection for distracting noise charms. Strange how there always seemed to be an odd bell chiming in the corridor disrupting my Slytherin-Gryffindor Transfiguration lessons. When I came back into the room from investigating, a Gryffindor would have need of the hospital wing."

Severus shrugged noncommittally. "Never proven," he said. Minerva rolled her eyes.

"But I will have to owl Harry about this…again." Minerva shook her head. "I shall have to write another letter to George Weasley as well about the ridiculous amount of free joke products his nephew seems to find his hands on."

She returned to the parchment and after a moment wrinkled her brow. "Two students, you say? James Potter I understand, but I must say I am baffled as to which of these others you've decided to personally make miserable this week."

Minerva waited as Severus carefully placed his teacup and saucer onto the edge of her desk. If she perceived his body language correctly, he was trying to decide how to word what he was about to say. He sat back into his seat and picked at invisible specks of dust on his robes before finally looking up at the Headmistress.

"In addition to Mr. Potter, Miss Agnew will be serving detention with me tonight."

Minerva's eyes widened reflexively in surprise, then narrowed.

"Zoe _Snape_, you mean. She isn't on your list."

"She was my last assigned detention today. That list was made during my free period."

Minerva shook her head with disbelief. "You gave your own daughter detention in her first class with you?"

Severus nodded subtly.

"And what, may I ask, did she do?"

"She disobeyed my direct command for silence and then proceeded to boldly criticize my teaching style in front of an entire class."

"I suppose that explains the uncharacteristic, first-week loss of house points for Slytherin…" Minerva commented. "Was it the delivery of the material or rather the charming way in which you patronize and intimidate your students that had her complaining?"

Severus scowled. "The latter, apparently. I believe she thought me something of an…antagonist."

Minerva rubbed her eyes, as she suddenly felt very tired.

"Why does this not surprise me?" She sighed heavily. "Very well. What do you intend to have her do? Not rewrite the disciplinary records for all of _her_ father's transgressions from his time at Hogwarts, I presume?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

"No," Severus stated plainly, picking up his teacup once more.

* * *

><p>Zoe stood outside of her father's office door staring across the Defense classroom at the clock on the opposite wall. It was two minutes until seven and she had no intention of being early. Though she was still rather upset with her father for his classroom antics, she had gotten a majority of her frustrations out before dinner in the form of hushed whispers to Caroline and John in the back aisle of the library. That didn't mean she wasn't still dreading detention.<p>

Sighing heavily and steeling herself for her impending punishment, she reluctantly raised her fist and knocked.

Immediately the door swung open and her father stood there looking down on her, that one eyebrow raised again. He allowed her to admit herself into his office and turned to face her.

"I was beginning to think you were going to hover outside my door all n—"

He was suddenly cut off by the unmistakable sound of pounding feet on flagstones. He craned his neck around the door frame and into the classroom just as James Potter raced into the office, breathing heavily. The boy skidded to a halt in front of Zoe and leaned over trying to catch his breath as he clutched at a stitch at his side.

"On time, Mr. Potter, but only just," her father said casually, tucking his pocket watch back within his robes.

James gave a mischievous grin. "Wouldn't have missed this for the world, Professor," he said cheekily before eyeing Zoe with curiosity.

Zoe rolled her eyes at the boy's audacity and noticed her father frown.

"Then let's not waste any more time," said her father, grabbing a handful of the boy's robes and pushing him back into the Defense classroom. "Come with me, Potter. Miss Agnew, stay here. I will attend to you momentarily."

Zoe folded her arms across her chest and stared petulantly at her father's back as he escorted James rather forcefully out of the office and into the classroom. As she heard him give the boy orders outside the door, Zoe was surprised at how much her anger at her father had built up again. She thought she'd gotten this all out, but apparently one snarky comment from the professor was all it took for Zoe to remember how she had felt that afternoon and she couldn't help the ire rising now.

A few minutes passed before her father reentered his office and closed the door behind him. A subtle wave of his wand and wards went up before he turned to face his daughter who still stood in the center of the room, arms crossed. He folded his own arms over his chest and gave her a stern glare.

"I suggest you check your attitude rather quickly, young lady, before I adjust it for you."

Zoe dropped her arms and huffed.

"Sit down," he instructed her as he crossed to stand behind his desk. Zoe didn't move, merely glared. Her father sighed as he collapsed into his own chair and, seeing her still standing there, rolled his eyes. "Stand then, if it suits you."

"It does," Zoe sneered.

Her father's hand came down hard on the surface of the desk—Zoe flinched—and his eyes blazed. "_Zoe_ _Ophelia_ _Elizabeth_," he said warningly. "I _will_ _not_ stand for this incessant back talk! If you can't speak to me civilly, then you can go put your nose to that wall until such a time that you can."

Zoe's jaw dropped at her father's suggestion of childish punishment. She tried her best to school her features as she looked away and remained quiet. She had pushed her father to reveal his temper and she knew that it was probably best not to goad him further. She could feel his eyes on her, but she chose to stare solidly at the back of the chair in front of her, her fists clenched in frustration.

"Why are you being so unruly?" he asked then, his tone softer.

_Why are YOU being so unruly?_ she wanted to shout back at him. Instead, she lifted her head and her eyes met her father's once more.

"You gave me detention!" she said indignantly.

Her father's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I did, and I'd do it again. Did you honestly believe that such a glorious example of insolence would go unpunished? That I would simply allow other children to walk away thinking that such disrespect would be tolerated in my classroom? I do hope you were not so foolish as to believe you would be immune from such discipline."

"I knew the answer," Zoe responded in her defense, ignoring her father's logic and focusing in on her true issue.

"What are you talking about?" He wrinkled his brow. He seemed thrown off by her change of subject.

Her anger built up further. She huffed loudly.

"The difference between Light Magic and Dark Magic," Zoe stated. "I knew the answer. I raised my hand."

"You're angry with me because I didn't call on you?"

"No, that's not it." She was gritting her teeth now.

He rolled his eyes and raised a hand in defeat. "Well, perhaps you'd like to enlighten me as to what _it_ _is_, then."

"I knew the answer!" Zoe was surprised that she was practically shrieking at her father. "I knew the answer and I raised my hand and you _ignored_ me! You didn't have to be so cruel! You could have called on me, but instead you embarrassed my friends and made them feel like rubbish! John says you're his least favorite teacher and I heard that Excelsius Bogg doesn't even _want_ to come to Defense anymore! And… and… you're never like this! Not ever! Not normally! Not at… home."

After her final comment, Zoe let out a breath and collapsed down onto the thick Persian rug, thoroughly blocking her father from view over his desk. She had lost steam toward the end of her tirade, suddenly aware of what her anger was stemming from. The more she thought about it, she wasn't exactly upset with the way her father taught his class, but more thrown off by it. She had walked into the classroom that day with a sense of pride that her very own father would be teaching one of the most important subjects in the school and, though nobody else knew of their relationship, she had wanted to revel in that pride. But he had made a point of mocking and disparaging every student in class, making them hate him. That wasn't how Zoe imagined it would be at all. It was true that her father had always been rather strict with her when it came to her studies, but that day he had been more than that. He'd been absolutely unrelenting.

She bit her lip to keep from crying and instead focused her attention on the intricate lines of the rug, tracing every pattern with her finger and seething inwardly.

The room was rather silent. She could hear her father readjusting his posture in his chair and she listened absentmindedly to the birds chirping in the last few minutes of the dwindling sunlight. Zoe spent the time busying herself by plucking dust from her school robes and unbuckling, then rebuckling her shoes and gradually she calmed down. Eventually, her father spoke again and his voice was calm, yet firm and commanding.

"If you've finished brooding down there, perhaps you could get off that rug and sit up here in a chair like a normal person," he suggested in a drawl.

Zoe stayed where she was for a moment, then rose from the floor to face her father. He had a resigned look about him, but his gaze was still stern. When Zoe had settled into one of the chairs opposite him, he took a deep breath and began.

"I know you knew the answer, and it pleases me that you did, but that is specifically why I _didn't_ call on you."

Zoe could feel her eyebrows knitting together in confusion and she couldn't help but continue to glare at her father.

"I didn't ask that question to be given an answer," he continued.

"Then why did you—" Zoe began but her father held up a hand to halt her, giving her a warning glance for the interruption.

"I asked it in order to demonstrate my expectations to the students and to establish a classroom order. I assumed—and I was correct in my assumption—that most of the first years entering my class hadn't so much as opened their books prior to today's lecture. Above all else, I expect my students to come to class prepared. Now, I know you knew this and your willingness to answer the question today proved it, but it was a lesson your classmates had yet to learn…"

"But—"

"Do not interrupt me," he scolded. "Now, you may not like it or think it fair, but the truth of the matter is that children typically have to be pushed in order to excel. Some must be pushed merely to be average. But every student, from day one, is going to understand that expectations in my class are high."

Zoe was listening to his reasoning and, though she could almost understand, she still couldn't get over seeing the coldness in her father's eyes as he had yanked Excelsius Bogg from the classroom or the way he had mocked John. Why couldn't he have told the class all of this calmly or outlined his expectations on the chalkboard? Of course, Zoe was aware of what her father expected academically, but that had been ingrained in her from an early age. How were the others to know on their first day? And, though he'd always been quite critical, he'd never truly demeaned her and most certainly never embarrassed her in such a public forum as he had with John or that Crenshaw girl. She was definitely still angry and hurt.

"You still didn't have to be so nasty about it," Zoe grumbled.

"I was not _nasty_. I was firm in my expectations."

"You were awful."

"I was not."

"Was too."

Her father huffed, obviously frustrated by the childish, verbal ping-pong. "I will not go back and forth with you on this," he snapped.

"None of the other professors did what you did!" Zoe couldn't keep the indignation out of her raised voice. "_They_ were nice. Professor Longbottom even gave us sweets after Herbology."

Her father snorted. "Yes, well, _Professor_ _Longbottom_ may find that he has trouble getting students to turn assignments in on time or get them to study sufficiently later in the year," he sneered.

"At least they won't hate him."

Her father huffed irritably and gave Zoe a very stern glare, but remained quiet, staring at her. She stared back defiantly.

"Come here," he said finally, his tone too neutral for her tastes.

Zoe gulped, flinching inwardly. She'd done it now; crossed some line.

She rose slowly and made her way around her father's desk, looking at the contents lying atop it, but not at him. When out of her peripheral vision she saw him extend his hand toward her, she cringed thinking he was going to pull her to him forcefully. However, he did no such thing. Instead, his outstretched arm gently took a hold of her wrist and brought her to lean against his shoulder and he brought his arm around to embrace her around her waist.

Zoe couldn't bring herself to return the gesture, so she stood stiffly by his side as her father sighed heavily in his chair. Then Zoe felt herself being pulled to sit on his lap and her head brought against his shoulder. She was too old for that! She fought against the affection, but her father held her close and tight.

"Stop struggling, silly girl."

"No. You were horrid today."

"Zoe, it is the way that I teach."

"It's not how you teach me."

"Teaching one bright child hardly calls for the same tactics as a classroom full of dunderheads."

"You don't know that they're dunderheads. You didn't give them a chance. You just assumed."

Her father let out another large breath and something in it conveyed to Zoe aggravation more than the calm exasperation of the last couple of minutes. He pushed her off his lap and stood her between his knees, holding both of her hands firmly in his.

"Zoe, look at me and listen."

She reluctantly dragged her eyes over to meet his. Her father's resolve was written all over his face. He'd made a decision and he wasn't going to change it.

"What you experienced today is the way that I conduct my lessons. It may be…undesirable by your standards, but it gets results, and you will not question it in front of your classmates again. This is not up for dispute. Your cheeky defiance today undermined my authority amongst your peers and that is entirely unacceptable. It will _not_ happen again, young lady. Do you understand?"

Zoe tried to pull away from her father. She wanted nothing more than to stomp away from him, to go back to her dormitory and seethe in peace. He held her firmly, however, his eyes boring into her, and Zoe knew then that it was futile. At least it was right now when she was still too angry and her father was still feeling the need to be so unyielding. She would need to regroup, to think this through more thoroughly, and come back with a different tactic.

"Yes, sir," she finally said with a compliant sigh. "But I don't like it."

"Duly noted."

Her father stood. He placed a hand between her shoulder blades and guided her out from behind his desk and toward the door.

"Come join Mr. Potter in the classroom. You have lines to write," he said.

"Lines!" Zoe pulled away from her father and turned to look back up at him. "But I thought _this_ was my detention!"

"You thought wrong," her father said simply. "You will be writing _'I will not dispute Professor Snape's authority during lessons'_ one hundred times before you leave here tonight."

With a heavy hand on her shoulder, he made her continue toward the door.

"But, Papa, that's going to take _ages_," Zoe whined.

"Then I would suggest you get started immediately and don't dally."

He flung the door open and pushed her out into the classroom, gazing sternly at the tousle-haired boy sitting at a desk. In Zoe's opinion, James was trying to look entirely too casual and innocent as she walked to an adjacent desk and sat down. Her father strode to a nearby shelf and pulled a roll of parchment, a quill, and ink from it. She watched him hastily scribble the sentence she would be writing at the top before bringing the stationery supplies to her and setting them down.

"One hundred. Get started," he stated tersely.

"Yes, sir."

Her father turned and went back into his office, leaving the door ajar so as to monitor Zoe and James Potter in the classroom.

Zoe sighed heavily as she dipped her quill in the ink.

This was totally unfair. She'd already endured a telling-off and now she had to write lines? She could already tell that having her father as a professor would never bode well for her if she was to get into trouble. After all, the lecture had quite clearly been her father with threats of attitude adjustments and forced hugs and the lines… that was all the mark of a professor disciplining an unruly pupil. Two punishments for one crime. She shook her head. Not fair at all.

"_Psst!_"

Zoe started on another line, trying her best to make the writing neat and not vary her letter size too much. She hadn't noticed that the boy next to her had been trying to gain her attention. That is, until the point of a small paper airplane flew into the side of her face. Zoe flinched, then scowled up at James Potter.

"What do you want?" she whispered, rubbing her temple.

The boy quirked a small smile. "Hey. What was Snape doing to you in there?"

Zoe narrowed her eyes at the boy before chancing a cautious glance at the door to her father's office.

"He wasn't doing anything to me," Zoe whispered back, trying to concentrate on her lines.

"Then why were you in there so long?" James asked, his voice low.

"We were talking."

"What about?"

"None of your business!" Zoe hissed, a little louder than was probably wise.

There was the unmistakable sound of a chair being pushed back and a moment later, her father appeared at the door and looked in on the two children who acted as if they were working diligently. He paused there, making his presence known by clearing his throat before walking back into his office. Zoe could see James's grin out of the corner of her eye and it annoyed her.

"You don't have to get your knickers in a twist, you know. I was only curious," he whispered across to her.

Zoe rolled her eyes. Ignoring the boy, she continued to work.

"Writing lines?"

Zoe looked at James again, exasperated. Why couldn't he just leave her to do her detention? By the looks of it, he had plenty of work to be doing himself. There was a box full of little cards in it and the boy kept pulling them out, sorting them and rewriting the ones that were faded or ripped.

"I've done loads of lines," the boy said offhand.

"_Not_ surprising," Zoe retorted through clenched teeth.

James only grinned and wrote out another card. "I'm writing out detention records from my dad and uncles for when they were at Hogwarts. Wouldn't be so bad except I think my Uncle Fred and Uncle George had detention every other day…"

Zoe continued to scratch away at her own parchment trying to tune James out, but it was difficult when she was doing something so mundane and tedious. Anything he said was already a million times more interesting than her stupid lines, even if it was inane babbling, as her father would call it. But still, she wanted to finish her lines sometime before tomorrow's classes and she couldn't do that if she kept getting distracted.

"It's awfully interesting that you got a detention with Snape. I mean, you're a Slytherin. My dad said that when he was at Hogwarts—"

"Shut up!" she said, again, a bit louder than she probably should have.

"Quiet…" The order issued from within the office in her father's stern, silky voice.

James eyed her with amusement as Zoe felt a flush creep up her cheeks. This stupid boy had better not get her in even more trouble.

The two were silent for nearly an hour after that. Only the sounds of quills scratching could be heard. Every once in a while the professor would come in to check on them and offer up his own comments about work ethic or what a pity it was that the two young students couldn't be relaxing with their schoolmates in their respective common rooms. Mostly, her father focused his criticisms on James but he still had a few lines to dish out to Zoe—mainly about respect and where her excess of cheek had gotten her. Zoe grit her teeth and rolled her eyes behind her father's back to keep from retorting.

"You know, he probably wouldn't like it very much if he saw you do that," James whispered after Zoe's father had made his way back to his office once more. Zoe frowned at him.

"Saw me do what?" she whispered back.

"Roll your eyes."

Zoe blinked. "Probably not," she conceded.

That was an understatement. She'd been caught before and it had bought her an entire afternoon of scrubbing cauldrons in her father's potions laboratory at home.

"Yeah, my mum goes mental when I roll my eyes at her," James commented before giving Zoe a pointed look. "No doubt your dad's the same way. Worse, I bet."

Zoe had been going back to her lines, but her head whipped up to stare at James, her eyes wide. Did he know?

"What did… I mean, yeah… Er, what do you mean?" Zoe asked, shaking her head. It seemed fuzzy suddenly. The boy smirked triumphantly.

"Professor Snape. He's your dad, right?"

"I, er…"

Zoe didn't know what to say. How had James found out? Her father had specifically told her that her classmates were not to know that he was her father and now after only two days at school, the worst possible student had somehow figured it out. Had she given it away? Her father would definitely not be pleased if she had.

"Thought so," James spoke confidently before stuffing the card he had been working on back into the box and strolling to her father's office door.

"I'm finished with this box, Professor," Zoe heard him say as he peeked into the office.

Her father strode into the classroom and inspected James's work. Apparently finding nothing to criticize, he turned to the boy.

"Very well, Potter. I shall have to scavenge up another box from Mr. Filch's archive for tomorrow evening. For now, you may go."

"Goodnight, Professor," James said, entirely too upbeat. He chanced a glance at Zoe and winked.

Zoe merely stared, watching as the boy exited the classroom. Her eyes were unfocused and her breathing felt sporadic. How did he know? She hadn't said anything. She was pretty sure she hadn't slipped up and called the professor 'Papa' in front of anyone and she knew for a fact that her father had been more than meticulous about concealing their relationship. So how had James Potter figured it out?

"Lines, Zoe."

Zoe whisked her head up to her father who seemed to have been studying her before his firm reminder of her assigned task. Zoe obeyed and worked diligently, but her head was spinning. Any way she thought about it, she just couldn't see how in only two days she had managed to reveal what she had been forbidden to reveal. There was no way around it. She would have to confront James and find out how he knew so that she could be better at keeping it a secret.

* * *

><p>It was just after ten when Zoe's father exited his office. As she counted her lines, she saw him wave his wand and lock the door out of the corner of her eye before striding over to her. Zoe's hand ached. She was almost certain she wouldn't be able to hold a quill properly in class tomorrow, but she had finished finally.<p>

"Let's see them," her father said, holding his hand out for her parchment.

Zoe handed it over without a word and flexed her hand. With a simple wand movement, the parchment glowed pink for a moment and then faded. Her father looked down on her with an amused eyebrow raise.

"One hundred and three. A little overzealous tonight, are we?"

"I lost count."

"Yes, I'm sure all of that whispered conversation with Mr. Potter was quite distracting. What were the two of you discussing?"

Zoe raised her chin defiantly. She didn't know why she felt she needed to be on the defensive, but James had rattled her. And on top of everything that had happened that day, she was just in a foul mood and wanted to go to bed.

"Nothing. He was being a prat. I told him to shut it," she snapped.

Both of the professor's eyebrows rose this time, but he smirked, apparently pleased with Zoe's answer enough to ignore her insolence. He nodded slightly, rolled up her parchment, and tucked the scroll into an inner pocket of his robes.

"Come along. It's after curfew. I will walk you to your dormitory."

Zoe nodded and followed her father from the room.

As they walked, Zoe noticed that the castle at night was creepy as all of the torches burned quite low and created gruesome shadows on the walls and ceiling. They were like dark demons stretching out to consume any passersby. Zoe tried not to look at them as she walked quickly behind her father, doing her best to keep up with his long strides. He seemed to notice as they started across the Entrance Hall and slowed his pace considerably. He glanced down to Zoe.

"You've befriended Mr. Thomas?" he asked. He seemed somewhat unsure of Zoe's answer.

She nodded. "John's nice. So is Caroline."

Her father focused his attention back on their route. "What about the children in your own house?"

Zoe just shrugged. "I like Lottie. I, er, I don't really know the others that well yet."

Her answer seemed to satisfy her father for he didn't continue the conversation further.

When they entered into the dungeon corridor, Zoe shivered and pulled her school robes around her more securely. Apparently, the dungeons would be cold even in the warmer months.

Eventually, they arrived at the stretch of brick wall that concealed the Slytherin dormitory. Zoe immediately walked toward it to say the password, but her father halted her movement. She looked up at him as he took her writing hand in both his hands and began gently massaging it.

"Remember what we discussed: no more brazen confrontations with me in class. I will not tolerate them."

"Yes, Papa, I know," Zoe said, her voice low. She was too tired to even give him a dirty look, much less argue. Besides, the way he was kneading the joints of her hand and working out the stiffness in her fingers felt amazing.

"Thank you," she said quietly to him but he didn't say anything back.

He released her after a minute and Zoe turned away again, but her father caught her by the arm and in an instant, her face was planted against his black woolen robes as his arms encased her.

"I had hoped not to have to make an example of my own daughter." He sighed a bit melodramatically above her as one long-fingered hand kept her head in place against his rib cage. Then he held her at arms-length and looked down on her sternly. "I implore you not to make me do it again."

Zoe looked away and nodded. "I'll try not to."

"_Try_. Hmm…," he said, disapproving.

Zoe shrugged and gave her father a mischievous smirk, looking up through her eyelashes at him. Her father smirked back briefly.

"Straight to bed. I want you rested for your lessons tomorrow."

Zoe nodded again and, after saying the password, entered her dormitory.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Reviews are nearly as highly sought after as diamonds and other jewels. I read that somewhere...<em>**


	9. The Swing of Things

**_All right, everyone. I know I've been horrible for taking so long to update, but please forgive me. I know I cite life as being my main antagonist as a writer, but it's so true. It's one of the drawbacks to being an underground fan fiction writer, but I wouldn't have it any other way. So, here's the latest chapter. I hope you enjoy it, despite it's more transition-like feel and I will do my best to get the next one up in a more timely fashion._  
><strong>

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**The Swing of Things**

The days that followed Zoe's first detention with her father were a mixture of excitement and triumph, frustration, and mild confusion.

The excitement came in the form of her classes, where not only was she learning new things—spells and interesting theories— but she was making new friends.

When she'd attended the Muggle primary school near her home in Cokeworth, the children there had been distant from the very start, for they had known inherently that she was different in some way. After all, by the time she was eight years old, she'd had more than a few instances of spontaneous magic that it could no longer go unnoticed by the children—no matter how much the teachers tried to rationalize or explain it away. By then, even the children who had braved talking or working with Zoe before, no longer would.

Incidentally, it was the same occurrence that had caused her father to ultimately remove her from the school and educate her himself that had also lost Zoe any form of companionship from the Muggle children. After that, they had started calling her a freak or avoiding her altogether.

It had been an innocent enough display of her abilities. After all, she hadn't _meant_ to make her pencils drum themselves on her desk during that fateful, boring maths lesson, but it had happened anyway. It had also been unfortunate that the occurrence had happened on the very day that the headmaster had chosen to sit in on her class to evaluate the teacher.

Both adults had been baffled, though they had immediately contacted Zoe's father in order to inform him of her disruption of the lesson. He had been less than pleased to perform the memory charms that would rid the teacher and headmaster of the image of her magical display, but he had done it nonetheless before informing Zoe that she would be educated at home from that point forward.

He had stuck to his word and Zoe had never gone back to the primary school. Therefore, she hadn't interacted with children her own age much since then.

There had been the occasional time when Professor Lupin had brought Grace along when he came to take his regimen of Wolfsbane Potion, but the visits hadn't been frequent enough for the girls to grow close. Besides the fact that Grace was nearly four years younger than Zoe, their interactions together had always been more of a novelty than anything close to true friendship. And, of course, there had been the annual Christmas Balls at Malfoy Manor, but those children always seemed to side with Scorpius on everything. Zoe had never considered any of them her friends.

Now, however, Zoe was more than content with her little circle of friends. Though Caroline and John—sometimes accompanied by Glendora—were in a different house, Zoe did her best to meet with them on the grounds between classes or in the library to study or after dinner before they were required to be in their dormitory for curfew.

Zoe had also grown close with Lottie—the only first year girl in her house that seemed to like her at all. Of course, she seemed to be Lottie's only friend as well and was wholly shocked when, one early Saturday morning in the Great Hall before any other Slytherin had joined them at the table for breakfast, Lottie had expounded her greatest secret to Zoe.

"Your name is what?" Zoe had asked, trying to clarify what Lottie had told her moments before.

Lottie smiled meekly. Zoe had begun to understand that her friend was a very patient girl and she liked that about her, for that was a virtue that Zoe struggled with often.

"I'm called the Lady Charlotte Wickham. My father is the Earl of Banbury."

Zoe's eyes had grown wide. "So, you're royalty?"

"No, silly," Lottie said, letting out an amused breath. "Just nobility—Muggle nobility, anyway. Well, _technically_, I am in line to the throne but really, really, _really_ distantly. Dad or Ben would have the crown before I ever did, though."

"Your brother has a title, too?" Zoe asked curiously.

Lottie nodded as she scooped some yogurt from a bowl in the middle of the table into her individual bowl. "He's Benedict, Viscount Wallingford. But he's only three, so he doesn't really understand all that yet."

Zoe was flabbergasted. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not only was Lottie a Muggleborn, she was a Muggleborn from a family of privilege and titles. She'd never met anyone of nobility before. It was incredible.

"So… your father is in the House of Lords, then?" Zoe asked a bit tentatively. Her own father had taught her about the Muggle system of government over a year ago. It had been very interesting, though they hadn't spent a lot of time discussing it, for her father felt that it was much more important that Zoe understand the government of the wizarding world.

Lottie nodded again. "You mustn't tell anyone," she said then. "Mum and Dad were very surprised that I had gotten into a school of magic—though when Professor McGonagall came to give me my letter, Mum said it did explain some things. But the non-magical world can't know that I attend Hogwarts because of the Statute of Secrecy. The teachers know, for obvious reasons, but Dad said he doesn't want me to have any trouble here just because of who I am either."

Zoe nodded. She understood that wholeheartedly for her father had similar feelings, though he wasn't an earl.

"I promise I won't say anything… Lady Charlotte." Zoe grinned at her friend who playfully shoved her shoulder before the two girls giggled and dug into their respective breakfasts.

* * *

><p>"I see that Zoe has befriended the Wickham girl," Minerva said casually to her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor on her left. They were both early risers on the weekends and often found themselves eating the first meal of the day alone together at the high table.<p>

Severus looked across the nearly vacant Great Hall to his daughter and her friend. Zoe was animatedly explaining something to Lottie. The two girls were giggling every time Zoe seemed to take a breath and the sound of it was reverberating off the walls of the nearly empty room and making its way to his ears. Despite himself, Severus smirked with genuine contentment. He'd never seen his child so absorbed in a conversation with a child her own age before and he would be lying to say that it wasn't an altogether refreshing sight.

He'd worried for her, after all. Growing up with a decidedly antisocial father in a community where most of the children feared her, he'd been anxious about her ability to make friends easily. However, she and Lottie Wickham seemed to have bonded—over what circumstances, he wasn't sure.

"Remus says she's got a knack for Transfiguration," Minerva continued. "I might have guessed—she being my goddaughter and all."

Severus glanced to the headmistress with a raised eyebrow. "I must have missed those covert Transfiguration lessons you've been having with her over the years…," he stated sarcastically. "Or, perhaps they were through owl post?"

Minerva shrugged. "Brilliance by association is my guess."

Severus snorted. "If that were true, Zoe should be nothing short of a potions prodigy, but we're both quite aware that isn't the case."

Minerva smiled kindly. "She will do her best, Severus."

Severus merely inclined his head. "Has she spoken to you about her other friends? Pitts and Thomas from Ravenclaw?"

Minerva shook her head. "You're the one who has tea with her once a week. What on earth do the two of you talk about if not her friends?"

"Classes mostly, to be honest."

The headmistress pursed her lips and rolled her eyes as if that bit of information didn't surprise her in the least.

"Though, she did spend nearly twenty minutes Thursday afternoon trying to convince me of her _need_ for Slytherin-green, satin ribbons for her hair," Severus stated as he cut into a sausage on his plate.

The headmistress merely smiled at that. "Well, I haven't had a single chance to see her since term started, aside from her sorting and moments like this where she's halfway across the room." Minerva turned to eye Severus critically. "Do you disapprove of her Ravenclaw friends?"

Severus gave Minerva a withering glare. "Of course I don't disapprove. How could I? I know little about them."

"That's never seemed to stop you before," Minerva said offhand as she picked up her teacup and took a sip from it.

Severus huffed. "I trust that Zoe has valid reason for choosing the friends that she has."

"So, your inquiry has nothing to do with the fact that Zoe's only friend from Slytherin House is, in fact, one of the few Muggleborns to ever be sorted there?"

Severus shifted uncomfortably. Yes, that _was_ his concern. Many would believe, despite the truths that had come out about Severus's past, that he still held firmly that Muggleborns were beneath him—inferior beings of magic. That wasn't the case and never really had been.

In this case, he worried that there were entirely too many _others_ that believed such nonsense and that Zoe, associating with a Muggleborn, would feel similar torment as her friend, Lottie. Severus feared his Slytherin daughter being an outcast within her own house and the whole school due to her lack of prejudice and her naiveté regarding why those prejudices were there.

Severus suddenly felt a hand on top of his hand. He looked down at it, then up to the headmistress.

"Talk to her. Let her know what she may face."

Severus shook his head. "It will not matter to her. From what I've observed, Charlotte Wickham is her only in-house friend. Zoe's unlikely to care that there could be repercussions to their friendship—especially not for something as silly as purity of blood."

Minerva merely nodded. "Good girl," Severus heard her say softly, turning her eyes and focusing them on her goddaughter across the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>In addition to the excitement of her first weeks, Zoe's classes also held events of triumph.<p>

Though she hardly wanted to brag, she had to say that she was rather pleased with herself regarding her in-class performances. In addition to the points she'd earned for Slytherin House from Professor Lupin on her first day, she'd managed to secure another ten points from Professor Longbottom in two separate Herbology classes—first for being able to identify fluxweed and state its properties, and then later for her understanding that jimson weed was a highly potent hallucinogen.

Zoe especially felt proud of these moments in Herbology considering she had that class with the Hufflepuffs who seemed insanely eager to answer questions in that subject. Of course, Professor Longbottom was sure to accommodate their eagerness by mostly calling on the Hufflepuff students versus the Slytherins. Despite her best efforts to convey to the Herbology professor that she was already well learned in many magical and medicinal plants, it wasn't often that he allowed her to answer his questions.

Zoe supposed she didn't mind, really. She seemed to be the only Slytherin with any answers anyway and she cared even less when she was later told that Professor Longbottom's wife was a Hufflepuff and that his son, Angus—a third year—was also one.

Zoe understood the bias. After all, her own father was hardly subtle in his favor toward his Slytherins, even though his initial attempt to purge the first years of their laziness had proven to have just as many unprepared Slytherins as there had been Ravenclaws. However, it quickly became clear to Zoe that only the easier queries from the Defense professor were directed toward Slytherin students during class, meaning they would be much less likely to answer incorrectly and, therefore, less likely to lose valuable house points.

She still didn't approve of his demeanor towards the students overall, but she had learned to tolerate his ridicule while in class. However, there were still times when Zoe found it difficult not to be angry and frustrated with him.

For example, the next Defense class she'd had after her detention, she'd walked in to see the same words written on the chalkboard as had been there before: _Light vs. Dark_.

Her heart had immediately sunk. Though she knew most of her classmates had made a point to read every word of what had been assigned to them in preparation for the professor's imminent quiz, she doubted any of them had read as far ahead as she had and would still be unable to explain the difference between the two types of magic.

She just knew that she was about to witness yet another awful display of her father's dominating classroom manner.

"Today's lesson will jump forward in the text somewhat," her father began as he strolled between the aisles of his classroom. He was met with several groans from the students, but a sharp look silenced them almost immediately.

"Oh yes, I am quite aware of what your reading assignment was. However, I believe a rudimentary understanding of what Dark Magic is is essential in preparing you to defend against it."

He turned and walked back to the front of the classroom. Once there, he turned swiftly and leveled his students with a steely gaze.

"Miss Agnew."

Zoe jumped slightly, her eyes wide, having not expected to be called upon. She quickly looked around at the other students who all seemed to share the same look of relief at having not been called. She turned her attention back to the professor.

"Er… yes, sir?"

"What is the difference between Light Magic and Dark Magic?"

Zoe wrinkled her brow, somewhat perplexed. Her father stared at her expectantly and she squirmed in her seat.

"Well, Miss Agnew? As solidly as you seemed to be holding your arm in the air during your initial lesson, I assumed you knew the answer. Was I mistaken, perhaps?"

Zoe felt her eyes shifting their hue. She had no idea what color they had morphed to, but she knew that her father's mockery had caused it to happen. She had never gotten the hang of controlling them when a wave of strong emotion overtook her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It worked enough for her to answer.

"It isn't always about whether the spells are technically Dark or not, is it?" she said, her tone a bit more scathing than she had intended. She took another deep breath.

Her father's eyebrows shot up and he looked down upon her with condescension.

"Is it?" he asked.

Zoe bit her lip. She supposed that wasn't exactly the way that she had wanted to explain it. She looked up to the ceiling, trying to organize her thoughts.

"What I mean is: there are some spells that are considered Dark—according to the Ministry…"

"Noble institution that it is…" her father said sarcastically, interrupting her. Zoe pursed her lips.

"And there are also spells that everyone believes are good spells, Light spells. But, see, most spells can't be put in only one category."

There was an amused, mean grunt from one of the students across the room. Zoe got the impression that the student didn't agree with that last statement. Her father's head instantly whipped around to look in that direction.

"Five points from Slytherin, Miss Aaron," he said curtly.

Zoe's eyes widened. Her father had taken points from his own house which, after the points he'd taken from her that second day of term, she'd been hearing was a rare occurrence. This time, though he had taken them from Cecilia. She couldn't help but wonder why her roommate had scoffed at her explanation.

The classroom was silent now. All eyes had turned away from Cecilia's reddened, scowling face and were now focused back on Zoe, including their professor's.

"Well? Continue," her father drawled after Zoe had stayed silent a bit too long.

"Oh, er, well… whether a spell can be considered Light or Dark really depends on one thing."

"And what would that be, Miss Agnew?"

"Intent. What really matters is whether the witch or wizard means for their spells to be Dark or not, or if they use a spell in a Dark way."

Zoe watched as a single eyebrow on her father's face rose. He seemed to be mulling over her answer, but she was finding it rather difficult to know what he was really thinking.

In the past, during her lessons with her father, he'd never been so guarded in his mannerisms. If she were on the right track with an explanation, he would usually encourage her to continue, or they would talk the situation or problem through until Zoe fully understood the concept. It wasn't like that right now and Zoe was curious as to why it was that she couldn't easily read him. She wondered why he couldn't bring out the teaching methods she knew so well with all the other students in the class.

"An example?"

"What?"

So wrapped in her thoughts, Zoe hadn't been paying attention. She noticed her father had moved back to lean against the front edge of his desk and was now looking upon her, his arms folded across his chest. He huffed loudly.

"Give me an example for your explanation. I expect a fully thought-out answer to my questions in this class. You do have an example, don't you?"

Zoe was quickly becoming agitated. "Yes. I can give an example," she said, doing her best to control her tone.

"Please, do."

Zoe huffed. "A cutting charm. People use them for lots of things like cutting hair or vegetables, or when gardening. It isn't a Dark spell…"

"But?"

Zoe narrowed her eyes at her father. It was taking all of her self-control not to become snappy and disrespectful.

"But, if someone uses a cutting spell to hurt someone else or an animal, then it would be considered Dark."

Her father inclined his head slightly. Then, he merely ordered everyone to turn to a page in their books as he began to lecture, expanding on what Zoe had said.

Zoe couldn't help but be a bit agitated. He hadn't even told her that her answer was correct (though she knew that is was), much less award points as any other teacher would have. She shook her head as she began listening and taking notes. She just didn't understand why her father had to put on such airs in class, why he couldn't praise students when they were successful. It only seemed like the logical thing to do if he insisted on being so harsh in recognizing their faults.

Her first instinct was to confront him about it, but thinking of the detention she'd received before, she decided against it.

However, as the weeks passed by and despite her various tactics of restraint, her father's teaching tactics continued to be a matter of contention between him and Zoe.

Nearly every time Zoe felt that he had acted unjustly or later heard of him doing so through the grapevine of Hogwarts gossip, she left a note for him at the end of whatever homework he assigned her class that week.

She had started out simply writing them openly at the end of her essays. However, after the first message, her father had pulled her aside after breakfast one day to inform her that leaving personal notes to him on a document that had the possibility of being viewed by other students wasn't very covert in keeping her identity under wraps or in concealing her grievances with him.

Zoe had understood his point and agreed to stop. That is, until her and Lottie happened to stumble across a charm in the library that left writing on a document invisible and undetectable until the intended recipient touched the page upon which the missive was written. It had taken nearly a week of practice and experimentation, but Zoe got the hang of it eventually.

Therefore, when Zoe heard of her father assigning an extra-long essay to the fourth years for being "exceptionally dunderheaded" for not _anticipating_ the need to learn a shield charm to supplement their lesson in stunning spells, Zoe sent him a message at the end of her essay on tripping jinxes that read:

_The fourth years can't read your mind. How are they to know what you have planned for their next class unless you tell them?_

She'd been nervous about sending it for fear that there was a bit too much cheek in the tone of her written words and that phrasing it in such a way might land her in trouble. However, she'd been unable to think of any other way to convey to him that she was highly annoyed by his maltreatment of his students without being a bit smart about it.

Her stomach had leapt up next to her heart in anxiousness when she had received her homework back in the next class. It appeared that her father hadn't realized that the charm allowed for her initial writing to become invisible again once he started to write out a reply, for he had written below her message:

_Miss Agnew, I have already told you once that these messages at the end of your homework are unaccept—_

The sentence had stopped short and a large inkblot stained the parchment next to it where her father had obviously paused in his writing and the quill had formed quite the blemish. He had continued directly under that:

_Clever charm, Zoe. However, your smart aleck response is __not__. Your objection has been noted…again._

Zoe couldn't help but smile at that. Yes, she supposed she had been reprimanded and she had gotten the distinct impression that his use of 'noted' really meant 'ignored', but her father had praised her spellwork. She quickly dipped her quill in ink and placed a single dot on the parchment directly below her father's message, effectively erasing it.

* * *

><p>It was as she was finishing off her potions essay in her dormitory one night in mid-October that the most frustrating and confusing thing of her first weeks happened.<p>

She was lying on her stomach in her four-poster bed, quickly writing out the properties for the ingredients Professor Goode had assigned their class when the door opened and Cecilia walked in followed closely by three older girls.

"That's her," Cecilia said, pointing to Zoe.

Confused, Zoe sat up on her bed and eyed the other girls with a mixture of curiosity and caution. One of them came right to the edge of Zoe's bed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Cecilia says you've been mean to her. She said that you threatened to hex her if she even thought about trying to be better than you in classes. Is that true?"

Zoe wrinkled her brow, even more confused. She looked around the girl to Cecilia who was not looking at her, before locking eyes with the older girl again.

"If you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

The girl in front of her smirked. "Celeste Aaron, Cecilia's sister. Fifth year. That's Evangeline Selwyn." Celeste pointed to a thin girl with light brown curls. "And Julia Ellsworth."

Zoe looked to the other girl in the room, a plumper, plainer girl than the other two with dark eyes and very long, orange-red hair.

"So, why are you bullying my little sister?" Cecilia asked.

Zoe looked the girl dead in the eyes and did her best to remain calm, despite the fact that her heart was beating a mile a minute. "I'm not bullying her."

"She says she can't get higher marks because you threaten to hex her if she works harder than you. She says you're a bit of a teacher's pet."

"That's not true," Zoe said, gritting her teeth.

Celeste put her hands on the mattress of Zoe's bed then and leaned right into her face.

"Are you calling Cecilia a liar?"

_Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing_. Zoe shook her head, though. "I didn't even know she had low marks," she said, looking around Celeste again to look at Cecilia. Her roommate had her head bowed, but Zoe could see a slight flush forming on her cheeks. Celeste grabbed Zoe's chin then and forced her to look at her.

"My parents aren't too thrilled with Cecilia's performance in her first term and if that's because of you, there's going to be trouble. Have I made myself cl—whoa!"

Celeste let go of Zoe's face and stepped away from her with a shocked expression on her face.

"Y-your eyes changed color," she said as the other girls came closer to get a better look.

Zoe stared angrily at the fifth years, but didn't speak. She knew they had changed. Celeste grabbing her face had put her emotions over the edge.

"Are you a freak or something?" Evangeline asked.

Zoe ground her teeth some more. "No. I'm an Oculomagus."

Celeste seemed to have regained her composure then. A vicious smirk took over her features.

"Sounds like a freak to me," she said. "Just watch yourself." Then she turned and walked out of the room. Evangeline and Julia followed close behind her leaving Cecilia standing there with Zoe.

Zoe scowled at her roommate, incensed. Cecilia, without her sister in the room, returned to her typical, haughty manner. She looked at Zoe indifferently and went to her bed, straightening her blankets as if the Hogwarts house elves' bed-making skills weren't up to her high standards.

"Why did you tell them that I threatened to hex you?" Zoe asked, narrowing her eyes at Cecilia.

Cecilia shrugged. "Well, I had to tell Celeste _something_. It just made sense to pin it on you until I have a chance to raise my marks on my own."

"That doesn't make sense at all," Zoe said in disbelief. "That's actually really stupid."

That, apparently, was not the thing to say. Cecilia whipped around to glare at Zoe.

"_I'm_ not stupid, _you're_ stupid!"

Zoe was actually quite taken aback by the other girl's outburst. Up to this point, Cecilia's remarks had been scathing, but never so loud. However, she wasn't going to back down.

"I didn't say you were stupid, I said that what you did was stupid."

"_Don't_ call me stupid!" Cecilia said again, pulling her wand from her robes pocket and pointing it at Zoe, whose eyes widened and, reflexively, she rolled off her bed onto the floor just as a spell soared to her right and shattered the globe of the oil lamp on her bedside table.

An instant later, another older girl burst into the room, took one look around, and grabbed Cecilia's wrist, who was clearly trying to think of another hex to shoot toward Zoe's side of the room. Cecilia struggled to get out of the girl's grasp.

"Stop firing hexes now or I'll go get Professor Snape!" the girl said.

Zoe looked up over the edge of her bed. Cecilia, with nothing but anger in her eyes, turned and ran through the door and out of the room. Just outside in the corridor, there were several Slytherin girls milling about, looking into the room in an effort to find out what had taken place. The older girl shooed them away and closed the door. She leveled a look at Zoe, who stood from her hiding place on the floor.

"Well? What happened?" she asked as she strode to the oil lamp. "_Reparo_."

The pieces of glass quickly zoomed back together. It was then that Zoe noticed the prefect badge on the girl's robes.

Zoe bit her lip. "You're a prefect…," she said slowly, worried that she had yet to escape punishment.

The girl's eyebrows rose. "Yeah. Rosalie West. But if you aren't comfortable telling me what happened, I guess I could just take you to see Professor Snape now."

Apparently, the girl was under the impression that Zoe was going to be difficult. She shook her head.

"No, that's ok. Cecilia… well, I mean, I—"

Zoe paused as Rosalie waited expectantly for her to continue, but Zoe was conflicted in how to explain it. Though her statement had been taken the wrong way, technically, she was at fault for setting her roommate off. On the other hand, though, students weren't supposed to use spells on other students unless it was supervised in class and a part of her wanted to see Cecilia come to justice for trying to hex her. As she mulled it over, Rosalie shook her head and started toward the door.

"Look, I'm not going to say anything about this because, frankly, the amount of points Slytherin would lose for hexes being thrown in the dormitory isn't something I'm willing to let all of Slytherin suffer for because two first years can't figure out how to live together peacefully. Work it out, or I _will_ report both of you to Professor Snape."

Zoe nodded emphatically and when Rosalie West walked out, she let out a relieved breath.

* * *

><p>"She really blamed you for her getting low marks?" John asked, the look on his face incredulous.<p>

The friends were sitting together in a nearly empty library toward the end of the day following Cecilia's lie and attack. Zoe had told them everything and they had been offended for her, to say the least.

Zoe nodded and John shook his head.

"Why didn't you tell the Celeste girl that you didn't threaten Cecilia?" Caroline asked.

"I did. She wouldn't listen. She got angry when she thought that I was calling Cecilia a liar."

"But she is a liar," John said matter-of-factly. "A lying, scheming piece of—"

"I think you should tell a teacher, Zoe," Caroline recommended, cutting John's statement off.

"I already told her that," said Lottie, looking up from the star chart she was perusing and joining the conversation.

Zoe, tired of trying to work out how to spend time with Lottie separately from her Ravenclaw friends had finally just introduced them all to each other. They had been accepting of each other without any questions and had since been socializing and studying together whenever they could.

"I can't now without getting Rosalie in trouble for not saying anything before. Besides, it isn't that big of a deal. When Cecilia gets her marks up, her sister and those other fifth year girls won't care anymore and they'll leave me alone."

"_Maybe_," John grumbled.

Caroline gave him a scalding, annoyed look. She turned to Zoe with more kindness. "You'll tell us if they bully you again, won't you, Zoe?"

Zoe didn't know how to tell them that she didn't really feel like she was being bullied. She thought the whole situation rather silly and felt like it would blow over in a few days. However, seeing the concerned look on her friends' faces, she reluctantly nodded her head.

* * *

><p>"Papa, is saying that something someone did is stupid the same as calling them stupid?"<p>

Severus glanced up to his daughter from the stack of quizzes he'd been grading for the last half hour. He'd gotten a bit behind in his professorial duties in the last two days due to a tasking, last minute potions order for a client of his in Cornwall. Unfortunately, he'd had to use his teatime with Zoe to catch up. She had been forgiving, as usual, and had chosen to simply sit and work on her homework in his office with him.

"I suppose that the way it is said determines how one would take it," he said, adjusting his glasses on his nose and eyeing Zoe briefly before getting back to the quiz in front of him. "However, a criticism of someone's actions is not necessarily a criticism of that person's character, or in this case, intelligence."

Zoe stayed quiet. Severus had to stop what he was doing in order to look up and see how she had absorbed what he had said.

"Did someone call your actions stupid?"

Zoe, who had locked eyes with him briefly, looked away into the fire and subtly shook her head. Severus sighed and laid his quill down. He leaned back in his chair.

"Let's have it," he said seriously, pulling his glasses from his face and laying them on the surface of his desk. Obviously, something was bothering the girl and he knew she was unlikely to focus on the homework in front of her until she had confessed whatever it was.

Zoe looked back at him. "I told Cecilia that something she did was stupid and she took it all wrong. She thought I'd called _her_ stupid and she wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell her I hadn't. But I really didn't, Papa. I tried to tell her, but she got really angry about it."

Severus nodded. "All right," he said, putting his glasses back on and returning to the quizzes. It sounded like a rather silly dispute between the young girls and, frankly, he figured Zoe would be able to work this one out on her own.

"I shouldn't have said it, right?" Zoe asked.

"Perhaps not, but if what you say is true and you were merely commenting on her actions, then it isn't your concern that she mistook it."

Zoe nodded and Severus went back to his grading once more.

"Papa, can I please change rooms?"

Severus looked up abruptly at his daughter. He furrowed his brow.

"You've only been housed with Cecilia Aaron for six weeks."

"I know," Zoe grumbled. "But she doesn't like me and I don't like her."

Severus arched a single eyebrow. "Nonsense. You're merely quarrelling."

"No, Papa, we're not. She really doesn't like me. She hasn't since term started. I don't know why."

Severus eyed his daughter skeptically, though she seemed sincere in her assertions that the Aaron girl disliked her. Even he had noticed a bit of animosity between the girls in his own class. But it wasn't common practice to change rooming assignments for students—especially not this early in the year—unless the conflicts got exceptionally out-of-hand. Even then, Severus had found during his first tenure as Head of Slytherin House that the promise of unpleasant detentions should clashes come to hexes or blows was enough to keep roommates relatively civil to one another and the dread of actually approaching him to ask for a reassignment discouraged the students from even bringing conflicts to his attention.

It had been acceptable for the students back then, but Zoe was his child and had no qualms about bringing such things to his attention. He also hardly wanted to threaten her with detention for these petty feuds when she had asked him to change rooms as his daughter and not as just another Slytherin student. After all, over the years, he'd encouraged her to come to him when she encountered trouble with other children so she was used to having his support in that regard. However, Zoe needed to learn to tolerate those she didn't necessarily like.

Besides, Minerva would call nepotism if he were to grant Zoe this request faster than the apparition of a house elf.

"I think it best that you attempt to get along. Perhaps the two of you are merely unaccustomed to sharing such close quarters and therefore are grating on each other. In will be an excellent lesson in patience—something you could certainly use."

Zoe gave a frustrated sigh and turned back to her homework. After a few minutes, she started to pack her things.

"I'm going to see if Lottie wants to work on Transfiguration together," she said as she slung her bag onto her shoulder and started toward the door. She was upset with him; that much was apparent.

"Zoe."

Severus took his glasses off his face again and laid them in front of him. He crooked a finger at his daughter and she came to him with a resigned breath to stand next to his desk.

"Give it some time. If you and Miss Aaron are still having conflicts at the Christmas holidays, then I will _consider_ your request for a room reassignment. Until then, try to get along."

"All right, Papa," Zoe said, turning to leave. "See you tomorrow."

Severus shook his head. She was still upset with him but there was little he could do to remedy that. She would get over it eventually, he was certain, but that didn't mean he liked the knowledge that he was currently in disfavor with her.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So... who else is watching the Olympics?! When you review (because I'm going to assume that you're awesome and you will) tell me what your favorite moment has been so far and what team you're rooting for!<em>**


	10. Whines and Whispers

**_Hello everyone! Here is chapter ten. There's a little fluff at the end. Try not to hold it against me. Enjoy!_**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Whines and Whispers<strong>

"No."

"Why not?" Zoe asked huffily, moving to the edge of the chair in front of Severus's desk in his office.

It was a Saturday morning just after breakfast. Severus had been surprised to see Zoe waiting for him just outside the doors of the Great Hall as he had exited. Greeting her as just another of his Slytherins while prying eyes and ears were around, the father and daughter had quickly fallen into a more familial dialogue once they were safely moving through the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the way to his office.

"Two reasons: one, because you don't need two new holes in your head and, two… because I said so."

"That isn't an answer."

"It is answer enough for you."

Zoe huffed melodramatically. "But, Papa, _all_ the girls have theirs pierced and I'm the only one in my whole dormitory who can't wear earrings," she whined. "One of the fifth year girls said she'd do it for me and that it wouldn't hurt a bit."

Severus glared at the girl. "Now you are most definitely not having them pierced."

His daughter's demeanor shifted from mildly petulant to resentful almost instantly and her eyes turned to that now-familiar, defiant blue.

"This isn't fair!" she shouted, stomping one foot moodily on the rug.

His eyes narrowed and he brought his voice down to his sternest level. "Don't be impertinent," he said in warning, pointing his quill at her.

Zoe continued to glare defiantly at him and he stared back, unblinking. Eventually, the girl's breathing became more rapid as her anger at him intensified. She stood and turned on her heel to make her way out of his office.

"I'll just do it anyway," she stated boldly.

Severus snapped. "You will do no such thing!" he roared.

He raised his wand from where it rested on his desk and flicked it toward the door, slamming it closed before Zoe could exit it. The girl stopped abruptly, but didn't turn to look at him.

"Sit down," he ordered. The girl didn't move, merely squeezed her fisted hands tighter.

When she didn't obey, he stood from his chair, crossed quickly to her and, latching his hand around her upper arm, he pulled her toward one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat her down in it. Zoe immediately tried to stand again, but he put a strong hand on her shoulder and held her in place.

"No. Sit there and cool off."

To his surprise, the girl stayed put, though she crossed her arms over her chest and slouched. Severus continued to linger at her side for a moment before he trusted her enough to do as he said. Rolling his eyes, he walked back around his desk and sat behind it once more, watching his daughter, who refused to look at him.

Several minutes passed. When she made no effort to truly calm down, Severus spoke.

"We will stay here for as long as it takes you to control your temper," he said. "Breathe deeply, in and out. It will help."

Zoe shot him a brief, sour glare before turning away from him again. Severus shook his head. This had to be the beginnings of the inevitable influence of her peers, for his daughter had rarely been prone to challenging him for something so…insignificant…before. The girl could definitely test him when she felt inclined to, of course, but not like this, not in such a bold, defiant way—outright telling him that she intended to disobey.

He knew the day would come when he would realize that he was no longer the sole influence on his child's life, but he had hoped it would be a much more subtle change. He hadn't expected her to exert her independence so soon or, for that matter, so blatantly.

After another five minutes or so, Severus finally sensed the atmosphere in the room shifting as Zoe started taking control and calming down.

"It's been quite some time since you've earned yourself a timeout," he drawled, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "And at the age of eleven, no less."

"You _always_ treat me like a baby," Zoe accused, finally turning her head to glare at him, though there wasn't any angry heat in her words now, merely subdued indignation.

"I shall treat you as you behave."

The girl was quiet again, apparently unable or unwilling to argue further.

"I'm calm. May I go now?"

Severus looked at his daughter a bit longer, then inclined his head, giving her permission.

"You're not to pierce your ears and you're not to allow any of your housemates to do so either," he said as Zoe stood from her seat.

She looked straight at him and Severus could tell it was taking all of her self-control not to continue pleading her case. _Stubborn_ _girl_.

"Is that clear?"

"Yes," Zoe grumbled lowly, staring at her feet now.

Severus nodded. "You may go."

He lifted his wand again and opened his office door. Zoe left without another word.

Leaning back in his chair and breathing out heavily, Severus mused that he didn't think he'd ever be ready for his daughter to be a teenager—not if this was the preamble.

* * *

><p>"Did you see this?" John asked the girls as the first years sat huddled together in a large alcove off one of the main classroom corridors.<p>

It had quickly grown too cold in the Highlands for Zoe and her friends to spend time together on the grounds so, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, they could be found in various parts of the castle studying, playing Exploding Snap, or just talking. That day, John had brought along a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that his parents had sent to him that morning.

"Did we see what?" Zoe asked curiously, leaning toward John to look at the page of the newspaper. John pointed to the headline.

"_Fresh Wave of Former Death Eaters Released From Azkaban Prison_," she read.

"Oh no!" Caroline exclaimed, covering her mouth and looking at John with wide eyes.

Zoe wrinkled her brow and looked to Lottie who seemed nearly as confused as she felt.

"What's a Death Eater?" Lottie asked.

John's jaw dropped. "You haven't heard of Death Eaters?"

Lottie rolled her eyes. "No, obviously, but they sound awful. What a horrid name."

"They _are_ awful," Caroline stated. "They're Dark wizards and witches. They were the followers of Voldemort, back during the war that our parents fought in."

"That _your_ parents fought in," Zoe corrected, though she couldn't help but think of what Mr. Constantine had said about her father that day in Diagon Alley.

Caroline waved her hand impatiently at Zoe. "Anyway, most of them were rounded up by Aurors years ago and for good reason… This is terrible. Just when people were starting to see past all the discrimination, they're letting torturers and killers back out with all of us again."

"Torturers and killers?" Lottie looked rightfully horrified now.

Caroline and John both nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. Back when V-Voldemort was still about, my dad said that some of the Death Eaters would round up Muggles and Muggleborns just to curse them or kill them—for _fun_. Just because they didn't think they were as good as wizards."

Zoe's heart was beating a mile a minute. Minerva had once told her that there used to be a prejudice among pureblood witches and wizards and those who pretended to be purebloods against the non-magical and Muggleborns, but Zoe had been reassured that those sentiments had mostly died out. She didn't realize that "died out" had really meant "locked up in Azkaban".

"Why do you think they're being released?" she asked curiously.

John shrugged and looked down to the _Prophet_ again. The girls waited while he scanned the front-page article.

"It says here: 'a combination of budget cuts and successful rehabilitation'." He looked up at them with a wrinkled brow. "Funny… I didn't think you could rehabilitate pure evil…"

"John…" Caroline said as a consolation as she got up and crossed to sit next to the boy who Zoe noticed seemed distant suddenly, saddened.

"It's all right," John said, shaking his head. He stood abruptly. "I'm just going to go back to the common room for a bit. I'll see you guys later."

Then he left, leaving the newspaper behind. Zoe, Lottie, and Caroline were quiet for several moments.

"His dad has nightmares about the war sometimes," Caroline said, taking up the discarded paper and folding it. "Mr. Thomas saw one of his friends get killed in the last battle. John's really close to his dad so he gets a bit upset when he talks about it."

Zoe could do little more than nod. Lottie had a stray tear running out of one of her eyes.

"It's so crazy to think that our parents and some of our teachers fought in a war not that long ago," Caroline continued. "I can't believe they're letting some of the Death Eaters out. It's just…awful. At least Hogwarts is safe."

"How safe is it?" Lottie asked just before Zoe could ask the same question.

"Oh, it's very safe," Caroline said. "Professor McGonagall is a really powerful witch and we have so many heroes from the war as teachers like Professor Longbottom and Professor Lupin and Professor Snape who have set up all the wards… I even heard that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger helped out."

Zoe's eyes widened immediately, though she tried to mask her surprise at hearing her father's name included not only in the bunch of teachers who were supposedly heroes, but with James Potter's father who she had met at Kings Cross Station a few weeks prior.

"Harry Potter?" Zoe asked curiously. This time, Caroline's jaw dropped.

"Yeah, The Boy-Who-Lived. The wizard who defeated Voldemort, remember?"

"Oh, right," Zoe said tentatively.

"Mum says that he helps to set up the defenses on Hogwarts every summer before school starts," Caroline continued. "He's the Head Auror at the Ministry, so it makes sense."

Zoe and Lottie merely nodded. Though Zoe still had no idea what Caroline was talking about, she went along and acted as if she did. For some reason, she got the feeling that Caroline _expected_ her to know and Zoe didn't want to let on that she was completely clueless. She would have to spend some time in the library later. Lottie would probably go with her; she seemed just as uninformed, yet curious, as Zoe. At least she had the excuse of being a Muggleborn, whereas Zoe had the feeling that recent wizarding history hadn't been a priority during her at-home schooling of the last few years.

* * *

><p>All the talk about Potters got Zoe thinking over the next week about James and the knowledge she knew that he had. She hadn't forgotten his words to her in their detention, but she had just been so busy with school, homework, and her new friends that there just wasn't enough time in the day to confront him.<p>

Besides, every time she did have time or happened to run into him between classes or during meals, he was always surrounded by a hoard of other Gryffindors with the occasional Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw thrown into the mix. It appeared that James was quite popular despite his proclivity for pranks and his overall inability to behave. Over the first weeks of school, Zoe had heard that James rarely went an entire week without earning himself a detention—something her father had commented on once or twice during tea—yet, there always seemed to be someone talking about him in a positive way, as if they thought him exceptionally likeable.

Regardless, Zoe needed to talk to him sooner rather than later. It didn't seem that he had told anyone else her secret, for she figured with her father's apparent notoriety as a professor that such news would spread around Hogwarts like wildfire. Yet, nobody had said anything; her father hadn't said anything. What was James playing at? Did he just enjoy the idea of lording it over her head that he knew? Was he merely biding his time until just the right moment to release the information to the populace of the school? Zoe really couldn't fathom his motives. All she knew was that her father thought ill of him and that her father didn't want people to know of their relationship. That was reason enough to confront James.

Additionally, Zoe was getting very curious about the information she'd heard about her father and the war. What Caroline had said was the second time in only a few months that someone had referred to him as a hero and Zoe couldn't help but wonder what that was about. How was he a hero? Did he do something really courageous or selfless? Zoe didn't really know him to be…heroic. At least not in the traditional sense, she supposed. He was a powerful wizard, and a talented potioneer and, when Zoe got hurt, he always knew exactly what to do to patch her up and make her feel better. But were those things heroic? It could be argued that they were, but she could also see where it could be argued that they weren't.

She wondered if she should ask him about the things that her friends had talked about but the more Zoe thought about it the more she figured that perhaps the impressions were a bit skewed. If her father had fought in the war—and she was starting to realize that he must have—then maybe everyone referred to all the fighters on the winning side as heroes.

Yes, that had to be it. After all, wouldn't he have told her if he had done something significant? Wouldn't Minerva have? Zoe was certain she would have been informed for her father was not in the habit of lying to her or withholding information from her and was always very strict with her if he found out that _she_ had lied. He didn't tolerate it because he said that the truth was always more important, always best. He didn't like dishonesty or secrecy so Zoe found it very difficult to imagine that he wouldn't have told her anything of the war. It must not have been a significant enough event in his life.

In all honesty, Zoe didn't feel inclined to ask him about it anyway. Surely if it was important, he would have told her about it. Additionally, her and her father had parted each other on Saturday morning on not-so-good terms and she felt it might be a bit selfish of her to ask for information after acting like such a brat. And she _was_ still cross with him for not letting her pierce her ears.

* * *

><p>As the first weeks of the school term turned into the first couple of months, Severus fell into a very predictable schedule. Of course, his daily classes contributed to the routine, but even the weekends had become predictable. Saturdays were devoted to grading essays and quizzes and corresponding with his clientele while Sundays were nearly always brewing days. He had been rather surprised at how easy it had been to keep up with his business once he returned to teaching. It was only the week that he brewed Lupin's Wolfsbane that things became a little hectic. Even then, he'd found that the chaos wasn't <em>that<em> bad. It was nothing compared to the long, stressful days of his first tenure at Hogwarts.

And, at the end of a long day, it helped to see his daughter sitting at her house table, talking amiably with the Wickham girl as if she didn't have a care in the world. Even when the girl was frustrated with him, there was more warmth in her eyes when she greeted him in class or in the corridors than any other child in the school showed him and for that, he was immensely more content with his current lot than he was all those years ago.

Though, perhaps he did take a little too much pride in her during staff meetings.

Lupin had taken to approaching Severus nearly any time they met in order to inform him of some spell or another that Zoe had mastered in Transfiguration.

"She's picked up the basics faster than any student I've ever had, Severus," Lupin had said to him before a staff meeting at the beginning of October. "She's extremely bright and very eager to learn new concepts. She's set the bar of competition rather high for the first years, I must say."

"Well, if you won't set the bar, then someone must," Severus had said scathingly, though he was internally beaming with pride.

Of course, Severus knew that the werewolf had quickly become Zoe's favorite teacher as well, for the girl couldn't get through one of their tea times without a 'Professor Lupin this' or a 'Professor Lupin that'. It made Severus grit his teeth in…jealousy, he supposed.

Not that he could blame her. Lupin's class periods were ripe with self-deprecating humor, spectacular displays of transfiguration, a barrage of confidence-boosting placations, and practical, rather than written or oral, homework. Everything young, undisciplined students longed for in a class. How could his daughter not enjoy it?

Of course, he was well aware that Zoe disapproved of his classroom techniques. Aside from her cheeky statement in their first class together, she had taken to writing him messages in her homework, reproaching his tactics. She'd found an inspired little spell that allowed her to do so completely under the radar of anyone but him so, though he didn't necessarily like that she was so focused on his demeanor versus her actual schoolwork, he found it difficult to reprimand her for them. At least she wasn't being confrontational in class therefore risking exposing their relationship as father and daughter.

* * *

><p>"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus, let the girl pierce her ears," Minerva said to Severus immediately upon his arrival in her office on Monday afternoon.<p>

"I see she has gotten to you," Severus said dryly, closing the door.

Minerva nodded. "Actually, she broached the subject with me first. She was unaware that my office door had a password, so she sent me a letter through owl post a few days ago… She seemed to think I'd be more agreeable to the idea."

Severus sat down in one of the chairs before the desk, gritting his teeth in agitation. "And what did you tell her?"

"I told her she was going to have to ask you, of course. Then I received another owl from her at lunch today telling me of your decision… She isn't happy about it." The headmistress paused, leveling Severus with one of her stern expressions. "What harm is there? Is it really worth all this fuss for something so trivial?"

"Yes, Minerva, it is worth the fuss."

Minerva sighed in exasperation at her Defense professor. "Did you even think to ask Zoe _why_ she wants this so much?"

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"You have heard the cliché about jumping off a bridge?" he asked sardonically. "She may be fighting me tooth and nail, but I am trying to instill in my daughter the notion that she doesn't have to make her decisions based solely on what everyone else is supposedly doing."

"How do you know that she based her decision solely on that? You didn't even ask her."

"I—" Severus cut himself off. After all, the Headmistress was correct. He hadn't asked Zoe, not really. He'd made his decision final almost instantly, but not for the reasons that Zoe, or even Minerva, probably thought. He wasn't putting his foot down simply because he wished to have control over Zoe; he simply felt that his daughter's ears were perfect the way they were—pure and undamaged.

"You do realize she's likely to do it anyway? Sometimes the inherent need for conformity and acceptance are overpowering for a girl her age. She very well may weigh the consequences of disobedience as an acceptable risk to take in order to fit in with her peers."

"I've told her no. Zoe knows that I don't approve and I trust that she will respect my wishes and do as I've asked."

Minerva looked skeptically over the rims of her glasses at Severus. "We'll see, I suppose…"

Severus frowned. "Was there some other reason you asked me to come here or was it just to discuss my daughter's ears and defiant streak?"

Minerva's features turned grim. "No, that isn't the reason I asked you here. Have you seen the _Prophet_ today?"

She pushed the newspaper across the desk to him. Severus took it up and read the front page briefly, before looking back to the headmistress.

"The Aurors are hearing _rumors_ of Dark rallies," he stated indifferently. "I hardly think that rumors constitute a front page story."

Minerva eyed him with annoyance. "Come on, Severus, a mass release of former Death Eaters yesterday and now this? You have to concede that it seems suspicious… Frankly, it's a bit too coincidental for my tastes."

Severus started skimming the story. "Look, they've interviewed everyone's favorite Auror," he said. "He says that the entire weight of the Auror department will be working to stay on top of these rumors. See, Potter's on it as everyone in the wizarding world expects him to be. What is there to worry about?"

"Severus, do take this seriously," Minerva chided.

"I will take it seriously when there are some actual facts to the case. You have contacts in the Ministry… What do they say?"

Minerva leaned back in her chair. "I'm still waiting to hear back from Kingsley, but I just sent the owl a few hours ago."

"I really don't think we should take these whispers lightly, Severus," a regal voice suddenly spoke from above the Headmistress. "Rumors and speculation often have roots in fact."

Severus lifted his head up to shoot a glare at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

"Such enlightening advice from a painting," he said, his tone scalding.

"I'm merely saying that you should at least consider the possibility that Darkness is stirring again. Do you not owe it to yourself to at least look into the validity of these claims? Surely, you are aware of how you are perceived by many of these released Death Eaters… Think about your daughter—"

"_Stop_," Severus said abruptly, pointing a finger at the portrait. "Don't you dare try that tactic, Dumbledore. It will not work."

"I was merely trying to convey—"

"Albus, would you mind visiting your portrait in the Ministry and see if you can't hurry Kingsley's reply along? Or better yet, see if he has some time to spare to meet with me today."

The Portrait-Dumbledore sighed. "As you wish, Minerva."

The old wizard stood from his chair and exited out the side of his frame. Minerva gazed at Severus with slight annoyance.

"He has a point, you know," she stated. "If these rumors are true, you're going to have a target on your back."

Severus stood and turned to make his leave. "Inform me after you've spoken to Shacklebolt. Only then will I validate any sort of rumor."

As he made his way toward the door, the headmistress spoke behind him.

"Severus, find out why your daughter wants her ears pierced. If you're satisfied with her answer and change your mind about allowing her this, I would be happy to pierce them myself so as to skip the inevitable trip to Poppy to reattach a severed ear."

Severus stood, exiting the office without a backwards glance. He missed the Headmistress's shake of her head.

It didn't take long to find Zoe. She was sitting by herself in the library, not studying so much as she was gazing absentmindedly out one of the tall windows. He approached her at her table, ignoring how many of the students changed seats as he approached, hoping to stay out of his radar. The girl looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to act as if her mind hadn't been a million miles away just a moment before.

"Come with me, Miss Agnew," he said simply and turned to head back out of the library. He knew Zoe would follow along quickly.

Severus held the door open as Zoe walked past him into his office and immediately made her way to one of the chairs in front of his desk, placing her rucksack on the floor at her feet. Once he had closed and warded the door from potential eavesdroppers, he turned to his daughter, who was turned in her chair looking at him curiously.

"I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

Severus arched an eyebrow, but didn't answer as he crossed to her and pulled her hair away from her face, uncovering both her ears. He was pleased to see that she hadn't defied his wishes to have a classmate pierce them.

"No, it appears you haven't," he said, letting her brown waves fall back about her face.

"You told me not to pierce them. I didn't." The girl was definitely agitated with his apparent lack of trust and her suddenly yellow eyes were a testament to that.

Severus, not knowing exactly how to address his guilt at assuming she would disobey, simply walked to lean against his desk, facing her.

"Tell me why you want them pierced; give me a reason other than the one you gave me the other day about all the other girls having theirs done."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Minerva has hers pierced."

"You are still in the same thread as 'everyone else has them'. Try again."

Zoe frowned at him. "Did Mum have her ears pierced?" she asked.

Now Severus frowned—not from anger or annoyance, but simply in an effort to remember. He looked to the ceiling for a moment as an image flashed through his mind. _A hand, his hand, moving wavy hair from an ear adorned with a princess cut, emerald stud._ Severus shook his head slightly, clearing the image.

"Yes, your mother's ears were pierced," he said softly, before looking back at his daughter whose eyes had shifted in that instant from yellow to pale blue.

She nodded. "So, then, Mum's ears were pierced, so why can't mine be?"

Severus sighed and shook his head. "That is still not sufficient reason."

Annoyed insolence kicked in instantly as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"Why won't you just tell me why you don't want me to have them pierced?" she countered.

Severus leveled his daughter with a stern look; he didn't approve of her tone.

"I assure you, my reasons are sufficient enough to forbid you from this whether you know them or not. If you truly want this, you must be more convincing than telling me that the other girls have them."

"I'm eleven."

"Your current age is irrelevant."

Zoe slouched back in her chair and looked away from him. She stared at nothing in particular for a minute before Severus saw her close her eyes and take a deep breath.

"I don't _know_," she said in frustration. "I just… I think they look pretty on all the other girls and..." She looked back at him. "I think they'll look pretty on me, too. Don't you think so, Papa?"

That was it. That was all it took for Severus to cave.

He didn't know what kind of an answer he had wanted from his girl; he had no idea what she could possibly say that would convince him, but those words, apparently, had been it. He couldn't stand the thought that his daughter would think that he didn't want her to have them because he thought her plain, because he didn't think she would be pretty in them. He could never contribute to her lowered self-esteem for something as trivial as pierced ears.

He stood then and patted the top of his desk.

"Sit up here," he instructed Zoe as he went to the other side of the desk to fetch his travel potions kit from the floor.

Zoe obeyed, hopping up onto his desk gracefully, though she looked thoroughly confused.

He placed his kit upon the desk beside her and opened it, rifling through until he found the tin he was looking for and pulled it out. Looking at his daughter appraisingly, he then took his wand from his robes, conjured an elastic band and began pulling Zoe's hair away from her face, but she leaned away from him, pushing his hands away from her head.

"Papa, what are you doing?"

"Do you wish to have your ears pierced or not?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You've changed your mind?"

"It would seem that I have."

"But I don't want you to do it. Rosalie West said—"

"Ah, so it's Miss West who has been offering up her piercing services to the girls of Slytherin House. I shall have to have a word with her…"

"I don't want her to get in trouble, Papa. Please don't give her detention."

"Not every conversation I have with a student ends in detention, you know."

Zoe leveled Severus with a very skeptical look. Severus shrugged it off.

"In any case, I am not having some student who hasn't even sat her O.W.L.s yet near your ears with a wand, no matter how proficient you think she is. Either you allow me to pierce them, or you go without pierced ears."

It took almost no time for Zoe to make her decision known as a smile grew on her face and she straightened up, sitting tall upon the top of the desk, allowing her father to pull her hair back and tie it into a messy, loose ponytail at the back of her head. Severus took up the tin and opened it.

"This is a mild numbing unguent," he explained, dipping his index finger into the goopy potion and rubbing it onto each of his daughter's earlobes. After waiting a minute to give the salve sufficient time to work, he took up his wand and tilted his daughter's head slightly. He placed the tip of his wand directly over the front of her left earlobe and paused.

"There is still likely to be a sharp, pinching sensation," he cautioned, looking his daughter in the eyes.

She gazed back with only slight apprehension. "I'm ready," she said.

Severus nodded. "_Punctum_," he incanted as he focused to make the incision precise and minute—just big enough for an earring to go through.

Zoe winced and sucked in a breath through her teeth at the slight pain, but then relaxed as Severus said the healing spell that would make the hole permanent. He then moved to his daughter's right side and repeated his actions. He stood back and looked at his daughter straight on. Though her ears were now red and slightly swollen, she still looked like his girl.

Zoe lifted her hands up and gingerly touched the holes. "I'll need earrings," she said, locking eyes with Severus.

Severus raised a finger, indicating for Zoe to wait; he had an idea. He crossed back to the other side of his desk and opened one of the side drawers, pulling from it an ancient, crystal inkwell with an ornate, silver stopper. Despite its undoubtedly expensive price tag, it had little meaning to Severus for it had been left behind by his predecessor. At least he could now make use of it, for it was too gaudy for his own tastes to be used for its intended purpose.

He pulled the stopper from the well and laid it on the desk. Taking up his wand, he began to incant a rather complicated spell that essentially melted the silver down and made it malleable. Levitating the material at eye level, he then began using a series of spells to cut and shape the material into two small, individual silver balls that were attached to short, thin posts. After that, he made the butterfly fasteners to hold the earrings in place in Zoe's ears.

Finished, Severus further melted the remaining silver down and placed the liquid in a beaker to cool. He plucked his hovering creations out of the air and came back around the desk, holding the small, stud earrings in his palm. Zoe smiled at him and took one to put in one ear while Severus clasped the other securely into her other. As soon as they were in, he conjured a hand mirror for Zoe to see herself.

She was absolutely beaming as she looked up from the mirror to him. Hopping off her seat on the desk, she came forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you, Papa! I love them!" She stepped back and looked up at him. "That was wicked magic."

"Study hard and you, too, can one day pierce your daughter's ears," Severus said sarcastically as he moved to put the numbing unguent back in its place. He didn't know why he was in such a foul disposition about this.

"How do I look?" Zoe asked as she gathered her bag, apparently ignorant of his mood.

Severus paused and looked back at his daughter. She had taken her hair out of the ponytail, but had moved it behind her ears in order to display the tiny silver studs in their new place in her lobes. To Severus, she looked like Zoe, just with metal in her once plain, yet perfectly whole ears. As he stared at her a bit longer, he saw something else, too. She looked…older; she was becoming less childlike. When had that started to happen?

He didn't know how he felt about that.

"They suit you," he said finally.

Zoe smiled at him again and made her way to the door, exiting without another word. He collapsed heavily into the chair behind his desk.

He knew he'd made her day, made her feel accepted by her classmates, but the feeling that his little girl was growing up was very nearly unbearable to think about. It was pierced ears today, but what did tomorrow hold? He shuddered at the thought of makeup and shook the images from his mind.

_Pull yourself together, Snape_, he chastised internally.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Reviews are like oxygen. All you need are reviews.<em>**


	11. Learning to Fly, Among Other Things

**_Well, I couldn't sleep tonight... so I finished my chapter! At least someone in the world will benefit from my insomnia tonight (hint: it won't be me come the morning). And with that, I give you chapter 11 and I wish you goodnight._**

**_Enjoy._**

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><p><strong>Learning to Fly, Among Other Things<strong>

Zoe returned to the Slytherin common room from her father's office with a smile on her face. She couldn't believe that he had not only agreed to allow her to pierce her ears, but that he'd actually performed the procedure right then and there. She had thought it was going to take weeks—maybe even months—of badgering and persuasion to convince him of the notion. But it hadn't. Zoe didn't know what it was that she had said that finally made him give in, but whatever it was had worked.

And the little, round, silver studs that he'd made for her were wonderful. They were simple, yet elegant; they were perfectly shaped and smooth and Zoe loved them. It had been quite the sight to see her father make them as well. It wasn't often that she saw such impressive displays of magic from him, after all, for he had always said that knowing and being able to perform magic was no reason to be physically lazy and he abhorred witches and wizards who used their abilities for tasks as simple as tying one's shoes.

Of course, he'd taught Zoe how to tie her shoes when she was only four years old, not long after she had started talking. She smiled again at the memory of that—how patient he had been as she tried, unsuccessfully, over and over until, finally, she had a crooked and loose, yet adequate bow on the top of her left trainer.

"What did Professor Snape want?"

Zoe was jolted out of her reverie by Lottie outside of her dorm room, just as she was walking in. Lottie followed closely behind her.

"I went to the library to look for you, and Dev said that Professor Snape had come and you had left with him."

Zoe grinned and pulled her hair away from her ears to show her friend. Lottie's jaw dropped.

"You got them pierced?! They look so pretty! I love the—"

"Professor Snape pierced your ears for you?" a skeptical voice sneered from the other side of the dormitory.

Zoe hadn't even noticed that Cecilia was in the room, but she was suddenly faced with a dilemma. What was she going to tell everyone? After all, the first year Slytherin girls had been talking about this for the better part of a week now—the fact that Zoe's ears had never been pierced—and now she suddenly had pierced ears.

At first, Zoe had thought all the talk rather silly, but as the week had progressed and the more they'd talked about it, the more she had really wanted it done—even more so when Persimmon and Cecilia had talked about going with their mothers to pick out their first pairs of earrings. That's why Zoe had tried to approach Minerva first; she had gotten the feeling that this was something mothers and daughters were supposed to do together (or at least godmothers and goddaughters, in her case), not fathers and daughters. She had really only asked her father because Minerva had cautioned that he would probably not react very well to the news when he inevitably found out.

Zoe had agreed with that part and had therefore been very frustrated when he hadn't understood why it was so important to her. He'd forbidden it without fully hearing her out.

But in the end, he'd consented and Zoe found it difficult to even think about those few days that she had been cross with him. He'd fully redeemed himself in her eyes.

"I didn't say that," she reluctantly countered Cecilia's question. Well, she hadn't _said_ that; that was true… "I, er… I wrote to my father over the weekend to ask and he agreed and came here to pierce them for me. Professor Snape only found me so that he could take me to his office where my father was waiting."

Lottie nodded, believing the lie, while Cecilia frowned and then turned back to the homework she was working on.

"I love the earrings. Did your father buy them for you?" Lottie asked.

"No," Zoe said. "He made them for me from an old inkwell stopper."

"That's brilliant!" Lottie exclaimed.

"Yes, it's so brilliant that her father couldn't afford to buy her something new, so he had to make her earrings out of junk," Cecilia sneered, not even deigning to turn around to look at Zoe.

Zoe frowned. "He could afford it if he wanted to buy them," Zoe shot back. "But why should he? He used a lot of really hard spells to make these and I like them better than something he could buy anyway."

"_Of_ _course_ you do," Cecilia said, turning to glare at them. "That's always what common people say. It's too bad he didn't get you diamonds, it would have made you less plain-looking."

Then the girl rose from her chair and left, her light-red hair swaying behind her and her nose raised snootily in the air. Zoe glared at the door for several moments until Lottie put a light hand on her arm and pulled her toward Zoe's four-poster where the two collapsed.

"Don't listen to her, Zoe. She's just jealous. I think your earrings are beautiful and they mean so much more because your father made them for you."

Zoe nodded absentmindedly. Why did she continue to let Cecilia get to her so much?

"Am I plain?" she asked her friend in a quiet voice.

"Of course not," Lottie said. "Cecilia's just being mean."

"Yeah, I suppose she is," Zoe conceded. She raised her hand up and touched her newly-pierced lobe, trying to let the putdown roll off her back. "She's just jealous."

* * *

><p>It was during the third week of October when a notice was posted in the common room informing them of their first flying lessons. The Slytherin first years had talked about little else since. It had become so annoying to Head Boy Lukas Andersen that, during their weekly study session the day before the first years were scheduled to have their first lesson, he told everyone that they had to at least sit at the tables for the required hour and <em>act<em> as if they were studying. As long as they didn't get too loud in their conversations about broomsticks, flying, and Quidditch and after they had all agreed not to tell Professor Snape, they'd been allowed to discuss the upcoming event to their hearts' content.

"Have you ever flown on a broomstick?" Lottie asked Zoe.

"Not by myself," Zoe confessed. "Papa once flew me around on one at my godmother's house in Portree when I was six. But I haven't been on one since then."

"Was it fun?"

"I thought so. I can't wait to ride one on my own, though."

"I'm a bit afraid," Lottie said. "I always thought riding on brooms was a fairy tale and now I'll get to actually do it… What if I fall off?"

Zoe smiled reassuringly to her friend. "You won't. Look how fast you've picked up magic. Flying should be easy."

Lottie nodded.

The first years' first flying lesson turned out to be quite the event. First years from every house were brought together under the tutelage of a witch named Gwenog Jones who was said to have been the greatest player the Holyhead Harpies had ever had. She was in charge of flying and oversaw Quidditch practices and matches while her brother, Garvey, was in charge of physical education for all classes.

Coming into the Quidditch pitch with Lottie, Zoe had anticipated nothing less than chaos, but the opposite had actually been true.

The children had been divided into two groups—Gryffindors with Ravenclaws and Slytherins with Hufflepuffs—and shown the very basics of dealing with a broomstick. The eager first years had stood in block formation, a broomstick on the ground at their rights, as rules had been expounded and safety guidelines had been conveyed.

Zoe had stood next to Lottie, practically bursting with excitement, as Miss Gwenog (as she had asked that they address her) and Mr. Jones walked between the lines, taking turns speaking in what was obviously a well-rehearsed, tag team speech.

"We don't care how much flying experience you have had prior to your coming to Hogwarts," Miss Gwenog had said. "We expect you all to follow our instructions to the letter."

"Flying is fun and exciting, but only if everyone works to be safe," Mr. Jones had ended.

After that, the two groups had split apart, walking to opposite ends of the pitch. Once Miss Gwenog had shown the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs how to get the broomstick to rise into their hands and had watched as each student hovered tentatively a few feet above the ground, she had introduced them to what she called flying mentors. These were volunteer students from the upper classes who had considerable experience in flying and who were being trusted to assist the new flyers more one-on-one in technique and safety.

Zoe had stayed close to Lottie as they had been further divided and matched with one of the flying mentors, but had been appalled when she found out who her mentor was to be.

"Potter, why don't you take Agnew, Wickham, and Dalrymple," Miss Gwenog had instructed as none other than James Potter stepped forward holding a rather nice broomstick. The school-issued brooms absolutely paled in comparison to it.

"Come on, grab your brooms. Let's move over here," James had said, moving toward the side of the Quidditch pitch, very near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Once away from the other students, James looked them all over. "I was watching you all from the stands and none of you seem too bad. Miss Gwenog wants to make sure everyone can fly a low lap around the pitch before lunch, even if it's slow. So, who wants to try first?"

"I will," Thomas said almost instantly. Zoe could tell that he was already well-versed in flying.

"Brilliant," James said. "Mount your broom and go for it. Just don't fly too high."

Thomas didn't waste any time taking to the air and soon he was merely a blur among the other first years circling the pitch.

Lottie took considerably longer to make her way around, but Zoe could tell that her best friend was exhilarated by the experience—she smiled nearly the entire time. Though, the girl did have a bit of a problem slowing down and coming to a stop so that she could dismount. James had had to take to his broom in order to show Lottie the proper way.

After that, it was Zoe's turn.

"Have you ever ridden a broom before?" James had asked her as she had mounted, positioning herself comfortably on the seat of her broom.

Zoe looked toward Lottie and Thomas who were thoroughly engaged in conversation about their experiences around the pitch. She turned back to James.

"Of course, I've ridden a broom before," she stated, pushing off the ground with feigned confidence. As she hovered a few feet from the ground, James mounted his own broom and came up to meet her.

"Well, I want to get in the air. Do you mind if I fly beside you?"

Zoe merely shrugged and James looked down at the other two Slytherin first years below them.

"Oi! Stay here. We're just going to fly a lap," he called. Thomas and Lottie both nodded and then went back to their conversation.

Zoe and James started out slow, perhaps ten or twelve feet above the grassy field. As they flew, she tried to give off the impression that they were merely traveling at the speed she preferred, but she had a feeling she wasn't fooling James.

"How'd you get to be a mentor anyway?" she asked, unprompted. "Aren't you only a second year?"

James glanced over at her. "Yeah, but I've been flying for a long time—I practically grew up on a broom. My mum used to play Quidditch for the Harpies with Miss Gwenog, so she knew that I knew what I was talking about. And Dad's an ace Seeker, so some of it's inherited, I suppose."

Zoe nodded, though she sensed a bit of arrogance from the boy.

"Are you ok?" James asked her a minute later.

"Yes. I'm ok. Why?"

"You're gripping the handle really tightly. Your knuckles are all white. Do you want to slow down?"

Zoe rolled her eyes briefly, but quickly looked forward again, fearful that she'd lose her balance.

"No, I don't want to slow down. Can't we go faster?"

James wrinkled his brow as they made their way around the goalposts on the far end of the pitch. "We can if you want…"

"Let's race!" Zoe shouted.

"I don't think that's a good idea—" James said, but Zoe had already laid herself down on her broom in order to pick up speed.

She instantly regretted it as the broom shot forward quite quickly. She hadn't realized that it wouldn't be a gradual acceleration. However, as she gained speed and felt the wind as it whipped her hair back, Zoe found herself relaxing, getting the feel of the broom beneath her. Tentatively, she pulled up slightly and felt the broom rise higher. She evened it back out as she heard a shout next to her.

"We aren't supposed to go so high in the first class!" James said, moving his own broomstick closer to hers.

At this point, Zoe was grinning ear to ear. She had no idea that flying would be so much fun, so relaxing, and easy. She barely acknowledged James's warning as she took her broom lower, but continued to speed back to where the two of them had left Thomas and Lottie.

"Zoe, slow down!" James shouted behind her, but Zoe was giggling ecstatically, unable to contain her mirth. She looked behind her. James was right on her tail, but didn't seem too concerned until she saw his eyes widen in an instant. She turned to look ahead of her just in time to dodge around a tree branch.

Where had the tree come from? Exhilarated at her close-call, Zoe took her broom lower, skimming past tree trunks before turning about to see that she had ventured away from the Quidditch pitch. She could see the other fliers in the distance for a brief second before, suddenly, she collided in mid-air with a somewhat solid object.

Luckily, she only fell four or five feet into the leafy ground layer of the forest. However, she landed rather ungracefully and awkward as her face came down into the dirt painfully. She heard a groan very near her.

"Watch where you're going," James said, clutching his middle.

"Are you all right?" Zoe asked, the excitement of her flight dissipating instantly.

"Yeah… You just knocked the wind out of me. I wasn't expecting you to turn so quickly. Do you fancy yourself a Chaser?" he said, his tone slightly scathing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—" Zoe suddenly spied the broomstick she had been using lying on the ground a few feet away. The handle had broken from the impact, splintered just above the bristles.

"Oh no," she said.

"It's just an old Cleansweep. Nothing to cry over."

"But it isn't mine!"

"Relax, I think they expect a few brooms to get ruined during flying lessons every year. Why do you think they keep buying those ancient models?"

Zoe crawled over to the broom to examine it. She didn't think there was much that could be done with it. She looked over at James.

"Did your broom make it ok?"

"Yeah, it's all right," James said, holding it up to show Zoe as he stood and dusted off his clothes. "Good thing, too. Dad would have killed me if I'd broken his old Firebolt. Come on. We're going to have to walk back."

Zoe gathered her broken broom and caught up to James. It didn't take long for them to make their way out of the Forbidden Forest and back toward the pitch. It also didn't take long for their return to be noticed by Miss Gwenog and Mr. Jones who came flying over to them with rather angry expressions on their faces.

Half an hour later, Zoe sat by herself on a bed in the hospital wing leaning her head back as she nursed a sore and bloody nose. The blood had started flowing profusely not long after Miss Gwenog had severely reprimanded James and her for breaking not only many of the rules of flying lessons, but for entering the Forbidden Forest. She'd then sent James back to check on Thomas and Lottie while Zoe had been escorted to the hospital wing by Mr. Jones. Unfortunately, it turned out that Madam Pomfrey had been called away on family business and Zoe was instructed to wait there for her Head of House, who Mr. Jones assured her was well-versed in magical first aid.

Zoe was well aware of the first aid skills of her Head of House, but at that point, she couldn't have cared less about her nose. She was in so much trouble.

A few minutes later, the doors to the hospital wing opened and her father strode in, a scowl upon his face. Zoe immediately averted her eyes to the floor as he approached to stand beside the bed.

"Keep your head back, silly girl, until I can stop the bleeding," he said with a bite to his tone. He put the palm of his hand on her forehead to tilt it back and Zoe came face-to-face with his wand. A quick incantation later and Zoe could feel the blood flow stopping.

"_Tergeo_."

She felt the blood being cleaned from her face and then her father put one hand behind her head, cradling it while he used the fingers of his other hand to delicately feel the bones of her nose, checking if it was broken.

"Does this hurt?" he asked.

"A little."

He ran a finger down the length of her nose multiple times.

"I don't believe it is broken. You're lucky."

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Zoe asked tentatively, ignoring her father's medical assessment as her eyes practically crossed, watching his hands as they now touched along the bones under her eyes.

He stopped what he was doing and they locked eyes. Stepping back from her, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a very fierce frown.

"You _bet_ you are."

Zoe grimaced.

"Exceeding the speed limitations set for lessons, venturing away from the pitch, exceeding altitude restrictions, destruction of school property, and _entering the Forbidden Forest_," he lectured, listing off her transgressions and making Zoe squirm. "Were the rules not set out when you began lessons this morning or did you merely find them too insignificant to follow?"

"Yes, sir. They were set out," Zoe said, once again looking to the ground. She figured the second part of his question was rhetorical. There was a moment of silence.

"What were you doing in the _Forbidden_ Forest?" he asked slowly.

"It was an accident. I didn't mean to fly into it. I was just... going where the broom took me."

A condescending eyebrow raised above her father's eye. "To the best of my knowledge, brooms do not decide the destination for the witch or wizard who rides them."

"That's not what I meant," Zoe grumbled. She was explaining it all wrong. "I didn't know that I would like flying so much. I may have gotten a bit… carried away."

"Indeed," her father said scathingly. "I understand that you were racing Potter around the pitch. _Racing_, young lady?"

"You know about that?"

Her father's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Jones explained to me what you told him and Miss Jones."

"Oh," Zoe said, looking down to her feet. The jeans she was wearing were dirty from her collision and fall and there were a few dots of blood on them.

There was a heavy sigh near her and Zoe looked up to see that her father had a resolved look upon his face now.

"You will have detention on Monday—"

Zoe's jaw dropped. "But, Papa, Miss Gwenog already gave me a detention!"

"Interesting," he said indifferently. "You will sit another with your Head of House. I told you and your classmates on your first night that foolishness brought to my attention would be punished and this was, indeed, quite foolish. Additionally, you will find yourself a dictionary where you will look up the word 'forbidden' and copy its definition fifty times to be handed in to me at the beginning of your detention. You will do that for _me_, your father."

Zoe groaned and turned to stare out the window. _Three_ punishments this time for the same offense? It really was not fair.

"Mr. Jones also voiced to me the sentiment that you seemed to be a natural flyer."

Zoe turned back to look at her father, who had taken a seat on the hospital bed beside her.

"Really?"

He inclined his head. "Yes." He looked at her sternly. "Listen to your instructors and follow the rules next time. Even "natural flyers" in Slytherin House will find themselves quite literally grounded for the rest of term if they can't do as they're told. After all, flying is not a required activity at Hogwarts; it would be simple enough to assign you some other task during that time period."

"Yes, Papa."

He nodded and put a hand on her back, pressuring her to stand. "Go to the Great Hall. I'm sure the rest of your classmates have already come in for lunch."

* * *

><p>As the door to the hospital wing closed behind Zoe, Severus let out a long, exasperated sigh of relief. That girl and her daredevil antics were certain to give him heart palpitations.<p>

After the initial, Occlumency-contained bout of panic at hearing that his daughter had injured herself during her first flying lesson, Severus had been filled with a sense of pride that the girl had taken to flying so easily. The truth of the matter was that she hadn't been exposed to the mode of transportation much growing up and he'd been concerned that she would be fearful of it or simply too uncoordinated to fly. Severus had always preferred the quicker commutes associated with Apparition and the Floo network, after all, and had felt a sense of resentment toward flying a broomstick based upon his continued dislike of a certain, deceased, Gryffindor Quidditch player. And, of course, there was his rather…more complicated…flying technique that he'd picked up many years ago.

Despite all that, Severus himself had been a natural flyer as a boy. Had he come from a more influential family, he may have even played Quidditch for Slytherin. As it was, he hadn't, which added to his continued resentment of Quidditch players. Perhaps it was a bit irrational, but those feelings were hardly going to change now.

Rising from the hospital bed, Severus strode toward the door and exited to make his way to the Great Hall. He was feeling a bit peckish and the thought of a nice cup of tea to soothe his troubled thoughts regarding his daughter's recklessness on a broomstick was highly appealing.

* * *

><p>Having served Miss Gwenog's detention the Sunday following her flying lesson, Zoe sat in her father's detention on Monday evening, resentfully dusting every square inch of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and scraping old chewing gum from under the student desks. As she had worked her way through the desks, it had occurred to her that she'd had plenty of time during her flying lesson to talk to James regarding his knowledge of her and her father and, yet, she'd completely forgotten to do so, despite her having several opportunities with him alone by which to do so.<p>

Therefore, as she had walked back to the castle with Lottie, Caroline, John, and Glendora following their next flying lesson—Zoe having followed the rules this time—she spotted a group of six boys sitting under a tree on the grounds. James was among them.

Deciding she couldn't let any more time pass, Zoe turned to her friends.

"I'll see you guys later, I have something I have to do."

"Is everything all right?" Caroline asked, her face lining in concern. Of everyone in the group, Caroline was the worry-wart.

Zoe gave a subtle smile. "Yes, it's fine. I won't be long."

The others nodded and turned back to the castle as Zoe turned to head in the opposite direction.

She approached the group of Gryffindor boys with little apprehension. She had a mission and she wasn't going to let sheer numbers intimidate her.

As she got closer, however, a red-haired boy looked up and locked eyes with her and, in that instant, her resolve faltered, especially as the other boys turned to see what had piqued their friend's interest.

Zoe paused for a moment and took a fortifying breath, then continued forward to stop before James Potter who was sitting on the ground leaning up against the trunk of the tree. She glanced around her briefly before addressing James.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked.

"What do you want to talk to him for?" one of the other boys piped up.

"I just do," Zoe said simply.

The red-haired boy stood then and approached her. He was taller, but not by much, yet Zoe figured he was at least a third year, simply by the bulk of him—not that he was necessarily bulky. He just seemed older.

The boy got close to her.

"Slytherins shouldn't be talking to Gryffindors," he said.

Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"Is it against the law?"

"No."

"Then what's the big deal?"

She looked around the boy and locked eyes with James who had been watching the entire confrontation with apparent amusement.

"Can I talk to you _alone_?" she asked again.

James shrugged then and stood, dusting off his jeans, and started to walk away from the rest of the group. They didn't look too pleased with that decision, but they accepted it and went back to their conversations as soon as Zoe went to follow James.

As they walked, it became apparent to Zoe that James didn't want to simply get out of hearing range, but away from the prying eyes of his friends as well.

When they came to a small grove of young trees near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, James finally stopped and turned to Zoe, watching her expectantly.

"Well?" he asked when Zoe had remained silent.

Zoe shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

"Who was that boy? And why'd you bring me all the way out here?"

James wrinkled his brow.

"Is that why you wanted to talk to me? To find out who those others are?"

"No. I was just curious. That boy didn't seem to like me and I didn't do anything to him."

James shrugged and sat down in the grass, looking up at Zoe.

"He's my cousin, Louis Weasley, and he doesn't generally like Slytherins. It isn't personal."

"Right," Zoe said, annoyed. As the weeks had progressed, she had started to realize that there were a lot of silly prejudices among the houses. She was rather curious as to why they were there in the first place.

"Well? What did you want to talk to me about?"

James was rather impatient, Zoe noted. She blinked.

"You know."

"I know what?"

"About me."

James gave Zoe a mischievous grin and leaned back on the grass, laying his head back on his arms.

"Oh, your big secret, you mean… Yeah, I know that you're Professor Snape's daughter."

Zoe crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, looking down on the black-haired boy with a frown.

"How did you find out?"

James shrugged, looking away from her and picking at the grass next to him.

"I hear things," he said. He looked back up at Zoe. "Why don't you want anyone to know?"

Zoe narrowed her eyes at James and took a seat on the grass next to him. "My _father_ doesn't want anyone to know."

"Why?"

Zoe shrugged. "He said that other students would try to take advantage or something because I'm the daughter of a professor; like they would try to get me to help them with homework. He didn't want me to deal with that."

James snorted. "I don't think they would. Teddy's dad teaches here and he never told me that he had any trouble when he was going to Hogwarts. I don't think Angus has had any problems either."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Teddy Lupin? You know Teddy Lupin?"

Now James wrinkled his brow. "Well, of course I know Teddy Lupin! My dad's only his godfather."

"Oh, I didn't know that."

James's jaw dropped. "It isn't exactly a secret. Everyone knows that."

"Well, I didn't," Zoe said hotly. She looked away from James then. "Won't we get in trouble for being so close to the Forbidden Forest?"

James shook his head. "Maybe at other parts of the grounds, but not in the Memorial Grove."

"Memorial Grove?" Zoe asked.

James gave Zoe a perplexed look. "Er, yeah, you know, the grove of trees that were planted in memory of all those who died on the side of the Light in the Battle of Hogwarts? Remember?"

"Oh," Zoe said again. She hated how dumb she felt, but that was all she could say. After all, she had no idea what James was talking about. There was a battle at Hogwarts? She wondered when it could have been—perhaps during that war Minerva started to tell her about years ago, but was interrupted by her father.

"You aren't very good with history, are you?" James asked then. "I mean, _everyone_ knows about the Memorial Grove. There's an event here toward the end of the last term every year, to honor those fallen. We don't have classes that day, which is wicked except if you don't want to go to the ceremony, you have to stay holed up in your dormitory while it's going on, so you should definitely go to the ceremony this year."

Zoe nodded absentmindedly. "I take it you came to the ceremony last year, then?"

"Well, yeah," James said, that perplexed look on his face again. "Even before I started Hogwarts, my parents brought me every year. We sort of have reason to come."

At Zoe's questioning look, James pointed at the tree directly to his left. Zoe rose and approached the dogwood. As she neared it, she noticed a tiny, brass plaque was attached to the trunk and a name was engraved there. She touched it delicately with her fingers.

"Fred Weasley?" she asked, turning back to James.

James nodded solemnly. "He was my uncle—my mum's older brother and my Uncle George's twin."

Zoe looked back to the plaque. "I'm sorry," she said, genuinely.

James shook his head. "It's all right. He died a hero."

Zoe nodded and the two children were silent for a while.

"Was that Louis' dad?" Zoe asked curiously, coming to sit next to James in the grass again.

James turned onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. "What? No. Uncle Fred died way before Louis was born. Louis is my Uncle Bill's son."

Zoe nodded. "So, your mum has three brothers, then?"

James let out a bark of laughter at that. "Ha! No. Six."

"Six?!" Zoe said and then quieted. She didn't want to seem rude.

James merely smiled. "Yeah, my Uncles Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron are all Mum's brothers."

Zoe nodded again.

"You haven't heard of the Weasleys, have you?" James inquired then.

"No. Are they famous or something?" Zoe asked.

"Not famous, just well-known. They all fought in the war before we were born—one of the few entirely pureblood families to fight for the Light. My dad was practically a part of the family when he was growing up because he was my Uncle Ron's best mate, then he married my mum and really became a part of the family."

"I noticed there are a lot of Weasleys here at Hogwarts. Are you all related?"

James rolled back onto his back, looking up into the sky. "Yeah. Cousins."

"Really?"

"Really. Plus, Teddy and Grace Lupin are practically cousins because we see them at every holiday—maybe even Angus Longbottom."

Zoe was in awe. She could never imagine having so many people in one family. It was such a foreign concept to think about when she came from just her father and Minerva in her little world—unless you included Ollie, which Zoe typically did. She supposed she could add Minerva's sons Finlay and Ewan, but Zoe had only met them two or three times in her whole life and they were older than even her father was. She just couldn't understand having _cousins_, much less cousins her own age.

Something within her longed for that kind of a family.

"How do you know Teddy, anyway?" James asked after a minute.

Zoe locked eyes with him. "I know Grace too. My father brews the Wolfsbane Potion for Mist—er, Professor Lupin. Sometimes the professor brings them when he comes to take the potion."

James nodded. "Remus always said his brewer was the best. Makes sense that it's your dad."

"Why does that make sense?"

James's eyes widened. "Because your dad is, like, the best Potions Master in Britain. He used to teach Potions here, back when my dad was in school. Don't you know that? He's in books and stuff."

"He _writes_ for potions books," Zoe clarified, but James shook his head.

"No… He's _in_ books about potions. Other books too—history books."

"Why is he in history books?"

James rolled his eyes. "Because he—"

"Come on, James! Let's go play Quidditch!"

Zoe and James both looked up across the grounds. Apparently, his friends had grown tired of waiting on them to come back. A boy Zoe didn't know was jogging toward them as the others stayed back away from the edge of the small grove of trees.

"Sorry, I have to go," James said, standing up.

Zoe bolted to her feet as well. She shot a quick, cautious glance at the boy coming toward them and hissed quickly to James.

"You didn't tell me how you knew," she said.

James shrugged. "I overheard Mum and Dad talking. Your face in detention just confirmed it, though," he said with a grin.

Zoe's eyes widened. "How do _they_ know?" she asked, her voice sounding panicky.

James leveled Zoe with an exasperated expression. "My Dad's Head Auror. He works at the Ministry. And he's Harry Potter. He knows a lot of things."

"What does your dad know?" The other Gryffindor boy had finally approached them. He stopped, panting a bit from his jog and looked between the two.

Zoe glared at James, willing him not to say anything to this other student. James, seeming to understand, turned to his friend and grinned.

"He knows that Gryffindor is going to smash all the competition for the Quidditch Cup this year, especially if I make Keeper at trials next week."

The other boy rolled his eyes. "_If_ you make Keeper. The other part's right, though. We're going to smash Slytherin… No offense," he said, turning to Zoe.

"I don't follow Quidditch," Zoe said simply.

Both boys looked flabbergasted.

"You don't follow Quidditch? What's wrong with you?" James asked.

Zoe was growing defensive now. "There's nothing _wrong_ with me. I've just never played and I don't follow it."

"Well, you'd like it if you did," James said. "This is Remy, by the way. Remy Frakes."

Zoe nodded to the boy.

"And Remy, this is Zoe... er, just Zoe."

Zoe narrowed her eyes at the boy, though she couldn't fault him. He hadn't called her Snape, after all.

"Zoe Agnew," she stated then, holding out her hand to Remy, who shook it uncomfortably.

"Come on, James! Everyone is waiting," Remy said then, as he started to run off. "Nice meeting you!" he called over his shoulder to Zoe.

James turned back to Zoe. "Better go. I'll see you around." He turned and started to walk away from her.

"Have you told anyone?" Zoe asked, jogging to catch up to him. When she was beside him, she matched his stride.

James shrugged. "No."

"Well, are you _going_ to tell anyone?"

"No. It's not my secret to tell."

Zoe paused for a moment, stricken by his response. She hadn't really expected him to say that. Up until now, he had seemed like a bit of a prat, bigheaded, and always wanting attention. Once he had learned the truth, she had figured he would take the information back to his friends in Gryffindor and have it spread around the school before Zoe could even warn her father. Now, it seemed, that would be unnecessary—if she believed James, that is. Of course, he hadn't said anything so far and their detention together had been weeks before.

"Thank you," Zoe said meekly, catching up to James once more.

James merely glanced at her before picking up his pace considerably and sprinting toward his friends. Zoe watched him push Louis playfully before the entire group of boys began to race each other in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. Zoe took a deep breath and turned toward the castle, intent on finding Lottie.

She had just stepped into the shade of the castle when Zeus swooped down and landed on the wide, stone banister up to the main doors of the school.

"Hello, Zeus," Zoe said pleasantly, reaching out to stroke the great-horned owl's feathers. She noticed then that the bird was carrying a folded note. Delicately, she untied the missive from its leg. Instantly, Zeus flapped his wings and rose back into the air, disappearing over a turret.

Zoe wrinkled her brow, looked down, and unfolded the note in her hands.

_Zoe—_

_Minerva is in London most of the day meeting with the Board of Governors, but she asked that I relay an invitation to you for tea this afternoon. She would like you to meet her in her office at four._

_Papa_

Zoe smiled. She hadn't seen Minerva except from a distance in the Great Hall since before term had started. She rather missed her godmother.

With that, Zoe happily ran up the rest of the stairs, pulled the large doors open, and entered the castle. She needed to figure out an excuse to get away from her friends at four…

* * *

><p><strong><em>*Insert desperate plea for reviews here* *Note to self: try not to seem TOO desperate* ;-)<em>**


	12. The Pink Scroll

**_***So, I did a slight revision of this chapter. You may not even notice what I did, to be honest, but there were a few things that were just bugging me too much to leave as they were. I'm sorry if I made anyone think this is an update. I promise the next chapter is coming very soon._**

**_Hey everyone! I want to thank all you wonderful people who have reviewed and/or added this story to your favorites lists. It is so encouraging to know that there are people out there who love reading about Zoe and Severus as much as I enjoy writing about them! _  
><strong>

**_Also, quick shout out to 1066AndAllThat for being the very best of British question answerers! You keep me so immersed in the lands and cultures that I love and am so far from. Thank you!_**

**_So, without further ado... chapter 12!_**

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><p><strong>The Pink Scroll<strong>

When Zoe had turned the corner into the third floor corridor that led up to the office of the Headmistress, she had been surprised to see Minerva standing there waiting for her. Excitement overtaking her, Zoe did a quick scan of the surroundings and, seeing that nobody was about, she rushed forward.

"Min!" she said as she put her arms around her godmother enthusiastically.

"Hello, dear," Minerva said, amusement in her tone as she embraced her goddaughter.

Zoe pulled out of the hug and looked up to the elderly witch. "You were waiting for me?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes. There is a password to enter the stairwell to the office. It changes every Saturday and I forgot to give the new password to your father to pass along to you, so here I am."

Zoe smiled. "What's the password?"

Minerva turned then and walked toward an entry that had two gargoyles on either side of it. Zoe had seen it before, but hadn't realized what it led to until just now.

"There used to only be one gargoyle," Minerva explained. "But that was before— Well, I just thought the one looked too unsymmetrical and a bit forlorn at having nobody else to talk to all day, so I had the other added several years ago."

Zoe nodded, looking between the two gargoyles as Minerva said the password: jammie dodger. Zoe giggled.

After that, she got to ride the moving stairwell all the way up to the top and waited patiently for Minerva to open the large, hardwood door that led into her office. When Zoe walked inside, she nearly gasped at its grandeur.

Growing up, Zoe had been to Hogwarts many times, but she had never left the confines of her godmother's quarters which she knew resided somewhere just off this office—her and her father had always just Flooed into the sitting room of Minerva's suite. Therefore, she had never been inside the office of the Headmistress and hadn't realized that it would be so lovely.

There were dark, hardwood shelves and cabinetry all along the outside edges of the room, separated by grand, stone columns. Above those, hanging on the walls were dozens of portrait frames, large and small, wooden and gilded. It appeared that many of the occupants of these portraits were sleeping or otherwise absent, including a fairly large frame that hung directly behind the Headmistress's large, ornately carved desk in the center and toward the back of the office.

"They hold the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses," Minerva said, observing Zoe's intrigue as she turned about, looking at all the frames. "On the weekends, many of the occupants take holidays to their frames in other magical locations or simply visit portraits in other parts of the castle—unless I ask them not to, of course."

Zoe nodded in wonderment. "There are so many," she said.

"Indeed. Hogwarts has been here for over a thousand years… Come, let's have tea."

Zoe followed her godmother into a small antechamber just behind and to the right of her desk. Within, a cushioned bench ran along the right side, just under a wall filled with ancient-looking books. To the left, there were two wing-backed chairs with royal blue upholstery. A small table was nestled in between the chairs and was just large enough for a tea tray. At the far end of the small room, opposite the door they had come through, was a window that ran from just below Zoe's knees to just below the ceiling.

Zoe approached it to gaze out of it. From this vantage point, she could see much of the grounds as well as the lake. In the distance, the mountains jutted up to the sky majestically.

"Look at the view!" Zoe exclaimed. It wasn't nearly as high up as the Astronomy Tower, but the scenery was incomparable.

"Yes, better for me to spy on errant students," Minerva said, taking a seat in one of the chairs with an amused grin.

Zoe smiled as well, moving away from the window to take a seat in the other chair as Minerva served the tea. She greedily snatched a scone from the plate beside the sugar jar and began to munch on it.

"So… what have you been up to?" Zoe asked once she had swallowed. "Is being Headmistress hard?"

"It has its challenges, I suppose," Minerva said, taking a sip of her tea. "But you don't want to hear about my boring job. I want to know how your classes have been going."

"Great!" Zoe said without missing a beat. "Well… most of them, anyway. History's a bit boring and I'm not too good at Charms."

Minerva smiled. "You'll get there, dear. I know that Professor Flitwick isn't worried for you. With your prowess in Transfiguration, I've no doubt that Charms will click for you soon enough; the two subjects are very similar. As for History… well, just do your best. When the information isn't always interesting, I understand it can be difficult to stay focused."

"That isn't what Papa said," Zoe grumbled. "He said he didn't want to see any marks below an E."

"You are fully capable of achieving such marks, Zoe," Minerva said kindly. "Your father just wants to make sure that you know what his expectations are and that you strive for them."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste at her godmother having taken her father's side, but sat quietly for several minutes and didn't respond. She sipped her tea and ate her scone.

This was one of the things she liked about Minerva: even though they didn't always see each other a lot—especially during the school year—Zoe never felt uncomfortable in silence with her godmother.

"Minerva?" Zoe started tentatively, suddenly spotting the latest edition of _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_ lying on the bench opposite her. "Why do you think they're letting those bad people—the Death Eaters—out of prison?"

Zoe's godmother looked startled at her question for a brief few moments, before she took what seemed to be a long, fortifying sip of tea. She looked from the newspaper to Zoe, who was moving across to the bench. Zoe picked up the paper to read the headline and skim the rest of the front page.

"I suppose that the Ministry has decided that they have served their time," Minerva said simply.

Zoe got the impression that her godmother didn't agree with the Ministry.

"Did they all get put in prison because of the battle here during that war a long time ago?" Zoe asked.

Minerva's eyebrows shot up. "You know of the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Zoe looked back down to the paper sheepishly. "Not really. Ja— er, someone just told me about the Memorial Grove today, so I know that there was a battle here."

Minerva nodded. "There was indeed but, as you said, it was a long time ago… Tell me about your friends."

Zoe smiled slightly, thinking of her friends. "John is a wicked artist. A few weeks back he drew a picture of Simon sleeping on his desk during History of Mag— oh, er, I probably shouldn't have told you that," Zoe said, biting her lip anxiously.

Minerva shook her head. "When we are here together alone, unless it is for official school business, I am your godmother only. Do you understand? You need not worry about getting your friends or housemates into trouble with their headmistress."

"Okay," Zoe said, a relieved smile on her face.

"Go on," Minerva encouraged.

"Well, Lottie can sing the words to "God Save the Queen" in French, Spanish, _and_ _backwards_ in English…," Zoe continued, reveling in her godmother's attention.

The pair talked until dinnertime when Minerva finally ushered her goddaughter out the office door to make her way to the Great Hall. Zoe wasn't the slightest bit hungry by that time, though, for she'd filled up on scones and tea.

* * *

><p>"Severus, you need to tell Zoe," Minerva interrupted Severus's meal at breakfast later in the week.<p>

"Tell Zoe what?" he asked as he added some jam to a piece of toast.

"About the war and your involvement," Minerva stated lowly, leaning in toward the Defense professor. "She has learned that there was a battle here on the grounds and someone has imparted the significance of the Memorial Grove to her. It is only a matter of time until she learns even more—especially with the Azkaban releases being reported in _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_."

Severus merely raised a single eyebrow. "She said something about this at tea on Saturday?"

Minerva nodded solemnly. Severus gave his own curt nod of understanding.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said, unconcerned.

He had every intention of telling the girl eventually but he just felt that it still was not the right time. She was still too… too young at the moment.

"Did you see _The_ _Prophet's_ report on the spreading elven influenza?" he asked, grabbing for the newspaper and laying it beside the headmistress's plate.

"You're changing the subject," Minerva said simply, looking over her glasses to give him the stern look she often gave Zoe when the girl was being impertinent.

"And with good reason. Zoe will be informed of our world's more recent history when I have decided that she is ready to know the information. End of discussion. Now, do you believe Poppy is prepared for a potential outbreak here at Hogwarts?"

Minerva pursed her lips, but inclined her head in the affirmative. "She is stocking up on various potions as we speak. Can I count on you to offer your brewing expertise should we have need of it? Caspar Goode has already begun brewing large batches of immunity boosters, just in case."

Severus nodded. "Of course. Just keep me abreast of the situation."

"I will," Minerva agreed.

Severus turned back to his breakfast but could still feel the eyes of the headmistress on him. He rolled his own eyes and turned his head to look at her.

"What is it, Minerva?" he said rather sourly.

"She's going to find out and it is not going to fare well for you when she does."

"I could have sworn I said 'end of discussion'."

"You did, but _I_ am not your daughter and therefore cannot be intimidated into silence by those words. You need to tell her—sooner rather than later. Once the other children start making connections—and they will start making connections eventually—it will only be a matter of time before she hears about everything that you have kept from her. She is going to be confused and hurt, Severus."

Severus stood from his chair at the high table then. "I need to prepare the day's lessons," he said tersely before turning on his heel and exiting the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>"What do you suppose has Professor Snape so upset?" Lottie asked, nudging Zoe.<p>

"What?" Zoe asked, looking up from her eggs to the head table just in time to see her father stalk away from his chair in a clearly agitated fashion and exit through a door behind the table. She looked back to Lottie.

"Dunno," she said, shrugging. However, she _was_ genuinely curious. Before looking back to her friend, Zoe had seen the subtle shake of her godmother's head—the one she always did when a conversation wasn't exactly going well. Her and her father must have had a disagreement.

"Well, I hope he doesn't take it out on us in Defense today," Lottie said. "He can be rather harsh when it seems he's not having a good day, can't he?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Zoe said awkwardly.

She didn't know if she'd ever get used to the other children talking about Professor Snape so cavalierly around her while all she could think about was how they had no idea that they were really talking to his daughter and, perhaps, should not say anything about him at all. Granted, Zoe knew that Lottie wasn't trying to be mean and was merely making an observation, but it still stung a bit that other students disliked her father as a teacher.

"We should get to Herbology," Lottie said then, pulling Zoe out of her musings. "Professor Longbottom said that if you're late again, he'll definitely take points, no matter how well you know the Latin names for all the plants in Greenhouse Three."

Zoe giggled and stood, grabbing up her rucksack from the floor under her bench. Professor Longbottom was actually a very good sport about tardiness, knowing that it was often quite the trek from the castle to the greenhouses. But Zoe knew she shouldn't press her luck too much lest the kind professor tell her father that she had a tendency to walk in up to five minutes after the bell. She didn't want to sit through one of his lectures about time management and punctuality if she could help it and that morning, she could definitely help it—there was almost fifteen minutes until their first class of the day started.

As the two girls exited the Great Hall talking amiably, Zoe was suddenly pulled back harshly as someone grabbed hold of the long plait she'd put her hair into that morning and tugged it. Grabbing hold of the top of her head in an effort to relieve some of the pain, she quickly whipped around and came face-to-face with Celeste Aaron and her friends, Julia and Evangeline.

"What did you do that for?" Zoe asked, her tone biting.

Celeste merely shrugged. "Because I wanted to. What are you going to do about it, Firstie?"

"Come on, Zoe," Lottie said, taking hold of the fabric at the arm of Zoe's school robes, trying to pull her along. Zoe, however, didn't move. She was staring angrily at Celeste.

"I didn't do anything to you," she said.

"No, not me, but Cecilia says you're still doing better than her in classes."

"So what?"

"So, I warned you about that," Celeste said, moving closer to Zoe and looking down on her threateningly.

Zoe stood her ground as well as she could, but the truth of the matter was that she _was_ intimidated by this girl. Not only was she bigger than Zoe was, but she knew a lot more spells and hexes than Zoe did. There was no way Zoe would be able to compete in a duel with Celeste, much less with three fifth years. And that wasn't even taking into account how much trouble she would be in if she did.

Eventually, Zoe looked away from Celeste's menacing, green eyes and to the floor. She took a tentative step back.

"Just leave me alone, okay?" she said lowly.

"I'll leave you alone when my sister tells me you aren't being such a know-it-all anymore."

And with that, the older girl bumped her shoulder hard into Zoe's shoulder and walked away from the two first years.

Anger built up in Zoe. She wanted desperately to turn and run after Celeste, to jump on her back and start pummeling her with her fists for making her feel so small and defenseless. Or better yet, she wished she knew a few jinxes to use.

"Zoe, come on. We're late again," Lottie implored. "I'm sure if we tell Professor Longbottom what happened, he'll—"

"No. We can't tell him. It'll just make it worse," Zoe said, finally starting to walk. She was in such a foul mood now.

Professor Longbottom did take five points from both Lottie and Zoe for their tardiness, which did nothing but add to Zoe's irritations with the events of the morning.

Charms was only slightly better. Professor Flitwick had been as encouraging as ever, but Zoe just couldn't seem to get the hang of Cheering Charms, which equated to even _more_ frustration.

However, it all came to a head after lunch when the Slytherins and Ravenclaws entered into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to find a rather sour-looking expression upon their teacher's face.

Zoe's father had asked for their finished homework assignment nearly the instant the bell had signaled the beginning of class and had been rather terse with several students who he felt were incapable of keeping him from waiting on them to rummage through their unorganized bags for their essays. When he got to Zoe, who had just managed to pull _Defensive Magic for the Beginner_ out of her fully loaded bag (she hadn't wanted to go back to the dungeons between classes) he looked down on her with annoyance as she rifled to find the essay she had stuck between its pages.

"Any day now, Miss Agnew," he had drawled.

Zoe, her nerves already pulled to their limit, had snapped off a sassy retort.

Now, the classroom was deathly silent. She knew that, even if the way everyone was gawking at her wasn't a dead giveaway that she had gone too far, the way her father's jaw set with agitation and the way his eyes blazed at her most definitely said it. She stared at him, barely even believing that she had said what she had while at the same time, strangely, feeling absolutely no remorse for the comment.

That is until he had set the pile of essays he had been collecting down on her desk and proceeded to pull her up by her robes, practically dragging her from the classroom bodily.

As soon as he flung the heavy door open, Zoe could hear the crash reverberate down the once quiet corridor. She didn't even try to struggle against his strong grasp as he slammed the classroom door shut behind them before finally releasing her. She took a step back from the angry professor and watched him as he paced before her. He was furious; she could tell that much by the way that his fists kept clenching and the fact that anytime he glanced her way, the vein in his forehead seemed to pulse more rapidly. Zoe had seen him like this before, of course, but never when the anger was directed at her.

When he remained silent longer than she thought was normal, Zoe took a tentative step toward him, trying to muster up some semblance of courage.

"Papa?" she said very quietly, unsure if they were in hearing range of others.

Her father stopped his angry pacing then as if snapping out of some sort of angry reverie. He turned to her and pulled his wand from his robes. Flourishing it in front of himself, he conjured up a small, pink scroll out of thin air and handed it to her. Zoe took it from him with oddly shaking hands.

"You are dismissed from my class for the duration of this lesson. Make your way to Professor McGonagall's office immediately."

Zoe looked down at the scroll for a moment, then back up to her father, perplexed.

"You're sending me to see Minerva?" she asked.

Another wave of his wand and Zoe felt her father cast a spell around them, making her ears buzz slightly. He swooped down on her, latched his hand onto her arm, and brought her face very close to his.

"You are not going on a leisure stroll to see your godmother," he hissed, his voice beyond menacing. "As your _professor_, _Miss_ _Agnew_, I am sending you to the _Headmistress's_ office for disrupting my classroom with your cheek yet again. I find myself ill-equipped to deal with such an insolent, disobedient, and unruly student; perhaps she can sort you out. You will go there, give her that scroll of misconduct and then proceed to explain to her why it is that you can't seem to hold your tongue or do as you're told."

Zoe's eyes widened. Oh, _why_ couldn't she have just kept quiet?

Her father released her and she stumbled back slightly.

"Go," he commanded. "If that scroll is not in the Headmistress's hands within the next ten minutes, I shall know. So I wouldn't advise that you take your time getting there."

"Yes, sir," Zoe said, walking past him in the direction of the stairwell that would take her up to Minerva's office.

She didn't dare look back, but she heard her father yell a command loudly as he reentered his classroom. Zoe tried not to think of how angry she had made her father or about how disappointed Minerva was likely to be and instead focused on climbing the flights of stairs and navigating the long corridors of the castle. All too soon, she was standing before the stone gargoyles guarding the entrance to the office she had been in only a few days before, under entirely different circumstances.

"Password?" the one on the left asked.

"I…I don't know. It may have changed," Zoe said. She suddenly couldn't remember what Minerva had told her about the passwords. "I'm supposed to give this to Professor McGonagall." She held the pink scroll up so the gargoyles could see.

"Ah, a scroll of misconduct. It's been many years since I last saw one of those," the right-side gargoyle said. "Many years. Well, go ahead, dearie."

The spiral staircase began to ascend and, as Zoe stepped onto it, taking her up to the door of the office, she heard one of the stone guardians bid her good luck.

"You're going to need it," the other responded.

Once at the door of her godmother's office, Zoe was only barely holding back a torrent of tears. She didn't want to go in but, knowing that her ten minutes were probably very close to being up, she knocked.

"Come in, please," she heard from the other side. Zoe took a deep breath and pushed the door inward.

Minerva sat behind her regal desk with her thin spectacles perched on her nose. She pulled them off and allowed them to dangle from the chain around her neck as Zoe stepped into the room.

"Ah, Zoe, dear," she greeted warmly. "What brings you here? Isn't there a lesson you should be attending?"

Zoe walked resolutely toward the desk and stopped in front of it, unable to look at her godmother.

"Yes," she responded. "But I was sent here to see you."

Minerva's eyebrows knitted together.

"Sent? What do you mean 'sent'?"

"I, er… well, Pa— I mean, er, Professor Snape felt like I was…"

Suddenly she felt a strange heat in her right hand and she looked down, remembering the scroll. Zoe's eyes widened and, almost reflexively, she stepped forward and placed the scroll in front of the Headmistress.

Minerva took one glance at the pink cylinder and her eyebrows rose. She picked it up immediately, leveling Zoe with a stern, yet slightly perplexed look. She unrolled the scroll and, placing her glasses back onto her nose, she began to read.

Zoe fidgeted and lightly tapped her fingers on the edge of the desk and waited. As soon as Minerva finished reading it, her eyes fell on Zoe once more and she was hit painfully with the disappointment she saw there.

"Sit down, Miss Agnew," Minerva instructed, indicating one of the tall-backed chairs before the desk.

Great, now Minerva was using her formal name. Zoe sat.

"Are you aware of what this is?" Minerva held the pink parchment up for Zoe to see.

"Yes," said Zoe, nodding. "Professor Snape called it a scroll of misconduct."

"That it is. Are you familiar with its significance?"

Zoe shook her head. Minerva took a deep breath.

"Historically, they were given to those students whom teachers felt could no longer be controlled by the typically-prescribed classroom discipline."

Zoe wrinkled her forehead. No longer controlled?

"Unruly students were sent to the Headmaster or Headmistress with a scroll of misconduct when their professors felt that the child was in need of…well, let's just say, a firmer hand from a higher authority," Minerva elaborated.

Zoe's eyes grew wide, understanding the implication. Minerva wasn't really going to—? Her father wouldn't have—? Surely not…

"Relax, child, such punishments fell out of favor with the governors over sixty-five years ago due to harmful, emotional distress. Hogwarts no longer implements such tactics of discipline for its students."

Zoe let out a thankful breath.

"Does it mean I'm going to be expelled, then?"

Zoe didn't know why that had popped into her head or why she felt the need to voice it, but after her relief in the knowledge that she wasn't going to be subjected to some old-fashioned form of discipline; she now worried about the next worst fate imaginable.

"Expelled? Of course not," Minerva said. Zoe sighed in relief once more. "Scrolls of misconduct are now merely the means that give insubordinate students access to the Head's office. However, that does not mean this isn't a very serious offense. Usually, detentions and a loss of house points are enough to keep most Hogwarts students on the straight and narrow. After fifty-eight years as a regular professor, I never issued a scroll myself and in my tenure as Headmistress, this is the first time I have received one from a professor who was unable to deal with a pupil. You must have been exceptionally unruly. I also never imagined that Professor Snape, of all my teachers, would be the first one to make use of this particular disciplinary action. He typically has no trouble keeping order in his classroom…"

Zoe was fidgeting again. She could feel her godmother's eyes on her, but she couldn't stand to see the disappointment in those blue-grey eyes anymore.

"Is this true, Miss Agnew? Did you talk back to Professor Snape and question his authority? Did you shout at him? Call him a—" Minerva looked down at the pink scroll "—'great bully' in front of your classmates?"

Zoe winced. "Yes, Professor."

"And have you or have you not already served detention once for a very similar infraction with the same professor?"

"Yes, I have."

"Then I must ask: what possessed you to repeat such behavior today when you were already quite aware that it was unacceptable?"

Zoe looked up at the Headmistress briefly, then away, her eyes roaming over the dozens of portraits on the walls—every occupant was either sound asleep or vacant entirely, again.

"Have you seen what he's like?" Zoe asked, her tone incredulous.

"He's so…_horrid_ to the students. And all I hear around school all the time is how much of a git he is—even from some of the Slytherins. But I know that he's not, and I want to defend his teaching but I can't because then my friends will think that something's up and he said I can't tell my friends that he's my father and nobody says anything when he's unfair during lessons and I just…" Zoe hardened her jaw in frustration. "I just feel like if anyone should say anything about it, it should be me. It's as if I'm the best one to defend everyone because I'm his daughter. But then he just gets angry and puts me in detention and sends me to see you!"

By the end, Zoe was not only practically shouting, but she had big tears rolling down her cheeks as she experienced every conflicting emotion. She sunk down into her seat, breathing rather heavily, and did everything in her power not to look at the Headmistress. After all, she had probably just added disrespect to her list of infractions.

"Miss Agnew—Zoe—I see your dilemma, I truly do."

Zoe raised her eyes to meet her godmother's. "You do?"

"Yes. I imagine it is very hard for you to see your father in such a different element, such a different light, and not understand why he behaves in such a way," said Minerva. "I also know that it is very difficult to separate out the different roles. You are used to behaving and talking to your father a certain—more comfortable—way. You are used to questioning him without restraint and I understand that you are now faced with having to adjust to interacting with him in a more formal environment. However, that is still not sufficient reason to act out in his class and undermine his position. Especially when he addressed this issue with you back on the second day of term."

"I know," Zoe said, starting to feel the effects of her godmother's lecture. "I just wish he wasn't like that."

Minerva said nothing to this. Zoe continued to stare at her shoes, but she could feel Minerva's eyes on her. She looked up.

"So… do I, er, have detention, then?" she asked nervously.

Minerva gazed back at her steadily.

"We shall have to see. Professor Snape indicated in the scroll that he would join us once his lesson was through to discuss this. I imagine he'll be here momentarily considering the bell just went."

Zoe paled. She hadn't heard the bell and she most certainly hadn't expected her father to feel the need to come to the Headmistress's office and deal with her additionally.

"In the meantime," Minerva continued, "would you care for some tea? No doubt your nerves could benefit from it."

Zoe merely nodded. She thanked her godmother politely when the cup was placed in front of her and sipped it timidly.

Zoe hadn't even finished a quarter of her cup, however, when she heard the office door open behind her and the sound of boots gliding across the stone floor. She didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

The thick blackness of her father's robes came into her peripheral vision as she stared into the brown liquid within the cup in her hands. Zoe could sense his stern gaze.

"She is here for punishment, Minerva, not for tea and biscuits," her father said harshly just above her. He took out his wand and Vanished the cup and tea right out of Zoe's hands before crossing his arms over his chest, his stance defensive.

"I do not see any biscuits on display, Severus. Do you?" Minerva retorted.

Zoe couldn't help the small, amused puff of air that issued from her mouth at her godmother's challenge. Her father's eyes darted down to her immediately.

"Is this amusing to you? You've been sent to the Headmistress and you're sniggering about it?"

His eyebrows rose dangerously and Zoe didn't dare say anything. She did hold her father's stare, however, and as his ire radiated toward her, her own temper started to flare and she could feel the involuntary shift of her eyes. She inwardly cursed her inability to control them when she was angry.

"Fifty points from Slytherin!" her father said loudly.

Zoe's jaw dropped. "What for?" she shouted right back.

Her father leaned down and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, getting right into her face.

"You don't seem to be taking any of this seriously, Miss Agnew," he sneered.

"Severus, I hardly think that is productive. Sit down and we will discuss this," Minerva chided, waving her wand in the air. Zoe hoped it was to restore the points that had just been taken.

The professor stood upright then and looked at Minerva.

"There is nothing to discuss. The girl was disrespectful and insubordinate in my classroom. I only came here as her Head of House in order to reinforce whatever punishment you have chosen to mete out."

Zoe watched as her godmother's eyes narrowed at her father. She recognized the controlled annoyance in Minerva's features and was rather glad that it was not currently aimed at her. Minerva turned to Zoe then.

"Zoe, I would like a private word with your father. Please wait just outside."

Zoe nodded and stood. She gathered her school bag and turned to leave when her father's hand clamped onto her arm. She looked up into his angry face.

"You will show the Headmistress her due respect and give her a verbal confirmation of your understanding, young lady," he stated.

Zoe clenched her jaw but turned to look back at Minerva.

"Yes, Professor," she said before looking back at her father. When he didn't immediately release her—no doubt waiting for his own verbal confirmation—Zoe pulled away from him forcefully and walked from the office.

* * *

><p>Once Zoe had exited her office and Minerva had waved her wand toward the door in order to erect some privacy wards, she turned to her Defense professor and leveled him with her sternest gaze.<p>

"Do calm yourself, Severus. Your temper is exhausting."

Severus ignored her and narrowed his eyes.

"I sent her up here for a good scolding and at least a weeks' worth of detentions for her behavior, Minerva, not for tea and a chat. Why haven't you disciplined her?"

Minerva folded her hands onto the desk and calmly addressed Severus.

"Because I tend to try to listen to a student's side of the story before doling out punishments. And, after speaking with Zoe, I do not feel that this is a school matter at all. Therefore, as Headmistress, it would be inappropriate of me to administer discipline."

"Not a school matter? Her insolence is undermining my authority as her teacher and Head of House and you don't think that is a school matter?"

Minerva's eyes narrowed again.

"That girl out there is not acting out in your lessons because she has difficulty with authority, for her other teachers find her not only well behaved, but politely engaging and remarkably astute. She is getting defensive with _you_ specifically because she is confused. Do you not see the hurt in her eyes when you belittle one of her peers? Do you not understand that she is unaccustomed to the fear-inducing tactics that you are so adamant in using? You may have sent her here as her professor, but it is quite clear to me that the root of this conflict is not between Professor Snape and Miss Agnew, but rather between you, Severus, and your daughter, Zoe."

Severus's scowl deepened considerably.

"If you insist on this demeanor for your classroom, then you need to explain to her why it is important—we just had a conversation about this at breakfast," Minerva said.

"My history aside, I have had this discussion with her before, as you very well know, Minerva. And she knows better than to think that I am going to repeat myself."

"Perhaps you did a poor job of explaining the first time, then," Minerva accused. "Zoe is very bright, but she is still only eleven years old and therefore these emotional matters can only be handled with what limited experience she has of life."

"This is not an 'emotional matter', as you say. She has been told to behave in a specific manner and she has disobeyed. That warrants discipline."

Minerva rolled her eyes.

"You're missing the point entirely," she said.

"Oh? Then, by all means, enlighten me, Minerva, since you seem to know my daughter so much better than I."

Severus made a show of sweeping his robes around in order to sit before her. He crossed one leg over the other and leveled her with a mock-inquisitive stare. Minerva narrowed her eyes at him.

"I hardly think I have any more evidence than you in this matter, Severus, and no one knows your daughter better than you. I merely believe that you are blinded, for you are a stubborn man and a creature of habit. You are also deplorable at taking any form of criticism—no matter how constructive it may be—and truly loath to be found wrong by a subordinate, in this case a student and, unfortunately, your own child."

Severus growled. "Your point, Minerva."

"You have little patience as a general rule and your temper is much too close to the surface on the best of days…"

"I wasn't aware that we were here to discuss the flaws in my character. Perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows and looked at Severus with a smug grin.

"Ah, but your faults as a professor are the exact reason why we are here."

Severus looked confused.

"_My_ faults?" he erupted in his temper. "We are here to discuss punishment—"

"No, we are _not_," Minerva said emphatically.

Any words Severus may have wanted to say were stemmed immediately. He eyed Minerva curiously and his features softened slightly. He arched an eyebrow.

"All right," he said after several moments. "I'm listening."

Minerva took a deep breath. "Your daughter wants you to be a better person," she stated simply.

When Severus remained quiet, she continued.

"Your scare tactics: the sarcasm and degradation, the soft voice and looming figure. You have educated Zoe through nearly all of primary school and she is unaccustomed to seeing you act this way as a teacher. It confuses her at the very least and frightens her at the worst. Is that what you want? To frighten your daughter?"

Severus sighed heavily. "I do not want her to fear me."

Minerva nodded curtly.

"Then that leads us to her friends and classmates. You criticize them."

"I criticize everyone."

"Yes, I am well aware. And there is nothing wrong with a little of it. Merlin knows that sometimes a bit of embarrassment among one's peers can motivate a young person to step up and do what they are supposed to. But a _little_, Severus. There is no need to attack the same student relentlessly, no matter how much you dislike them or feel them inept. I understood your need for authority years ago when you were a new, young professor as well as your reasoning toward favoritism as the Head of Slytherin during darker times, so I stood by and watched as Albus Dumbledore allowed you to treat students as little more than verbal punching bags during your first tenure here. However, Voldemort is gone, I am Headmistress now, and it is getting old quickly."

"Now, you are a fine teacher. Most of the witches and wizards currently advancing the field of Potions studied under you. As your boss, I value your knowledge, skill, and guidance over most of my other professors and I immensely appreciate your return to Hogwarts. However, there comes a time when enough is enough. That war is over and you no longer have to present a perfectly Slytherin face to the world. The tactics, though not forbidden, are clearly affecting this particular student adversely and it is my duty as the Headmistress of this school to protect the students not only bodily, but also emotionally."

Minerva paused for a moment to eye the wizard across from her with less of a forbidding expression. She softened her features. "And she is my goddaughter, Severus. It pains me to see her so conflicted."

Severus hadn't moved or changed his expression the entire time she spoke. He arched a single eyebrow at her last statement, however.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked then, his tone annoyed.

Shaking her head slightly, Minerva leaned back in her chair with resigned exasperation. There really was no getting through to this man.

"Yes. I've said all I wished to say."

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Very well. Would you care to call the intractable Miss Agnew back in so that we may get this meeting over with? I have essays to mark."

Minerva stared at Severus for a moment and then sighed heavily, defeated. She lifted her wand from the surface of her desk, took down the wards, and opened the door.

"Miss Agnew, join us, please," she called out onto the landing, not taking her eyes off her Defense professor and the haughty look upon his face.

Zoe stepped into the room apprehensively. She glanced to Minerva briefly, but quickly shifted her focus to her father—cautious of his mood. When the girl sat down in the chair adjacent to Severus, Minerva spoke.

"Miss Agnew—"

"_Zoe_ _Snape_," Severus suddenly cut her off, looking at his daughter sternly. Minerva's eyes widened in surprise at the interruption. "How have you been raised to treat and address a teacher, young lady?"

Zoe glanced briefly to her godmother, obviously perplexed at being addressed by her father instead of her professor for this matter.

"Er… with respect," she responded.

"Yes, I thought so… Tell me, would you consider screaming at your professor particularly respectful?"

Zoe looked down to her hands. "No, sir."

"Hmm… And is 'great bully' the proper, respectable term to use when addressing said professor in class or otherwise?"

"No, sir."

Again, Severus nodded, and then he paused just long enough to make his daughter squirm with dread. "Then I would say you owe someone an apology."

Zoe looked to Minerva again. Minerva nodded her head to her goddaughter, wordlessly encouraging her to go on. The girl took a deep breath and looked back to her father.

"I'm sorry for calling you a bully in class, Professor. And for shouting at you. It won't happen again."

"I should think not. I happen to know your father would hardly approve of such disrespect." Severus looked down his nose at his daughter and once again nodded his head. "Apology accepted. Now, as your punishment for these transgressions—" Minerva saw Zoe's shoulders sag. "—you will accompany me in my classroom tonight for dinner where we will discuss how best to encourage students to study their Defense curriculum."

Zoe's eyes went wide as she took in what her father had said.

"Do you mean it?"

"I usually do."

"Okay! I mean, yes, sir," she said, clearly not able to keep the relieved grin off her face.

"Seven o'clock sharp."

Zoe nodded and rose to her feet, gathering her rucksack. She rushed forward and hugged her father. "Thank you, Papa."

"Yes, yes. Off with you," Severus said, waving her away as if annoyed with her affection. "Go reassure your friends and classmates that you haven't been murdered by your Defense professor."

The girl giggled and walked quickly out of the office. Minerva imagined she didn't wish to be there should her father change his mind.

Severus turned back to the Headmistress with a satisfied look on his face. Minerva was slightly perplexed.

"Dinner in your classroom? I thought you were going to mete out an appropriate punishment for her disrespect?" she said coolly.

Severus arched a single eyebrow.

"Would you have _preferred_ chastisement, Minerva?" he drawled.

Minerva pursed her lips. "Certainly not. I think that both of you will benefit greatly from each other's company this evening. Should you also come to an accord on this issue… well, that will be a greater lesson than any punishment—though I imagine you still intend to set her ears ringing."

Severus nodded. "Indeed."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I must say I was rather surprised to see that you had sent her here," Minerva said then. "And with a scroll of misconduct, no less. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to start laughing at the very notion."

A corner of Severus's lip twitched ever so slightly. "Yes, well, my so-called 'scare tactics' seem to have little effect on my own, incorrigible offspring. I had to do something to get her attention and make sure that she recognized the gravity of the situation. It was effective, was it not?"

"Oh yes," Minerva said, nodding. "I could genuinely see the fear in her eyes when I explained the scrolls were historically a precursor to a caning."

The Defense professor smirked again and rose from his seat.

"Good afternoon, Headmistress," he said, making his way to the door.

Minerva merely nodded distractedly as the wizard turned to leave.

"What swayed you?" Minerva asked curiously just before Severus exited.

The man paused for a moment and turned back to her slowly. His face was inscrutable, but Minerva had learned to read a certain amount of emotion in his eyes and what she saw, in that moment, was great conflict.

"I too find myself…distressed when she is conflicted," he stated lowly—honestly—looking to the ground as if ashamed. "It is enough to warrant a reevaluation of some of my methods, at the very least."

Then he left, leaving a very content Headmistress alone in her office.


	13. Marauders and New Spells

**_This is a VERY long chapter. I really grappled with whether I should split it, but I decided that there wasn't really a good place to do so. Besides, there is a two-part chapter coming up very soon and I didn't want too many cliffies. ;)_  
><strong>

**_Anyway, I hope I don't keep any of you from important things with my _exhaustively_ long chapter. Have a nice day and enjoy._**

**__MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>Marauders and New Spells<strong>

"Zoe, what happened?" Lottie asked, running up to her friend in the Entrance Hall where she, John, and Caroline were standing in a group chatting, most likely about her and her encounter with the fearsome Professor Snape.

Zoe approached her friends, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. Not really because she was facing them after being sent to the Headmistress but because she hadn't thought about what she was going to tell them to get out of eating dinner in the Great Hall in just a few short hours.

"I, er… I have detention tonight," she said.

"That's all?" John asked, wrinkling his brow. "Just one detention? Snape looked angry enough to chuck you out of Hogwarts for good."

"Yeah, he was," Zoe falsely conceded, letting out an amused breath. "But Professor McGonagall talked him out of it, I guess."

"That's lucky."

Caroline nodded, agreeing with John's assessment. "Cecilia Aaron looked so smug about you getting in trouble, though," she said. "I heard her whisper to Persimmon that she knew you'd get expelled before the year was out. Then she…"

Caroline stopped then, looking at Zoe piteously.

"What? What did she say?" Zoe asked, wrinkling her brow with curiosity.

Caroline bit her lip. "Well, she said something that wasn't very nice. The _vile_ word. She said you probably didn't belong here anyway, that you were probably a—" Caroline leaned in close and whispered. "A Mudblood. I'm so sorry, Zoe."

Zoe's eyes went wide in disbelief. She had only heard that word once or twice before, but her father had made it abundantly clear that were she to call another witch or wizard such a name, she would be rewarded with severe consequences. He had said he never wanted to hear it from her mouth—ever.

She wrinkled her brow in confusion at Cecilia's assumption, though. Just because Cecilia knew nothing of Zoe's parents, she assumed that she was Muggleborn? Her mother had been a Muggle, yes, but her father was far from one. He was a very powerful wizard and a respected Potions Master. Zoe doubted that Cecilia would have said such a thing if she knew who Zoe's father actually was.

Of course, she wondered why Cecilia would say such a thing, but ultimately chalked it up to stupid talk. Cecilia was trying to make herself look more important to Persimmon and anyone else who would listen to her. She didn't really know what she was talking about. Besides, she hadn't said anything about Lottie who actually _was_ a Muggleborn. Zoe couldn't help but wonder what she had ever done to Cecilia to make the other girl focus on teasing and bullying her over anyone else. Not that she wanted anyone else to be bullied either, of course. It was just all so confusing.

Once Caroline had said the forbidden word, however, Zoe's other friends had launched into gasps before beginning to talk lowly to each other. Of course, John had had to explain to Lottie what Mudblood meant, which only made Lottie upset that anyone would think such a thing. Zoe and Caroline had instantly set about bolstering Lottie's spirits, telling her that it was just a stupid prejudice and that she wasn't any different from the rest of them just because she came from a family of Muggles.

"Where's Glendora?" Zoe asked after Lottie had seemed to brighten up a bit.

"Hospital wing," Caroline said. "She left in the middle of Defense. Professor Snape said she didn't look so well and sent her out. I'm so worried that she has elven influenza."

"She doesn't have elven influenza," John said confidently. "The _Prophet_ said that the outbreak was still contained to the continent."

"She just looked so green when she left class and my mum sent me a letter talking about how she hoped that Hogwarts was preparing for the influenza."

"Do you think Madam Pomfrey will let us see her if we go up there?" Zoe asked curiously.

"Maybe," Lottie said. "Do you want to go and ask?"

Zoe nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

The friends agreed and turned to make their ways up to the hospital wing of the castle.

* * *

><p>Madam Pomfrey had allowed Zoe and her friends to see Glendora, assuring them that she was merely suffering from a bit of a cold and some fatigue and had not succumbed to elven influenza. The first years had gathered around her, cheering her up, until the mediwitch had bustled them out at dinnertime so that Glendora could eat and then get some needed rest.<p>

Lottie, Caroline, and John had made their way to the Great Hall while Zoe had made the journey to the third floor and her father's classroom where she had found him and their dinner already waiting for her.

"It would be unwise to believe that you aren't getting off easy this time, young lady. I entered into Minerva's office with every intention of making sure that you were given a week's worth of very unpleasant detentions for your continued insubordination," Zoe's father lectured.

He'd been at it for a while now, expounding to Zoe her exact transgression and exactly how it had been wrong as he sat across from her at the desk that he had transfigured into a dinner table at the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Now, he'd moved on to telling her exactly what a lucky girl she was to have practically gotten away with it. Zoe knew he had a point. She had fully expected to have just as many detentions as her father had described and, yet, she hadn't.

Zoe didn't know what her godmother had said to convince him to be lenient, but one thing was absolutely clear: Minerva was the greatest negotiator ever.

"And another thing…," her father continued. "What put you in such a mood anyway?"

"What?" Zoe asked, looking up from where she had been rolling her eyes into her shepherd's pie.

Her father raised his eyebrows. "Why were you so on edge at the beginning of your Defense lesson? I could see that your eyes were orange from my desk the second you walked into the classroom."

"Then why did you goad me?"

"Because you need to learn to control your temper," her father said a bit tersely without skipping a beat. "Answer my question."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste; as if he had any room to comment on _her_ temper. Of course, she kept that sentiment to herself.

"It was nothing, really. I was just… angry at myself in Charms today."

"Why?"

Zoe shrugged. "I couldn't get the spell right."

"Which spell?"

"Cheering charm."

Her father laid down his knife and fork then picked up his napkin and wiped at his mouth. He sat back in his chair, staring at her for a moment.

"Take out your wand."

Zoe was puzzled, but she did at he said, pulling her blackwood wand from the waistband of her pleated skirt.

"What's the wand movement?" her father asked.

"It's the same as levitation: swish and flick," Zoe answered.

Her father inclined his head in the affirmative. "Let's see it."

Zoe's eyes widened. "At the dinner table?"

She supposed she had never actually heard her father set a rule regarding magic at the table, but it still seemed like something he wouldn't normally approve of; it just seemed like bad manners for some reason.

"Yes, here. Show me what you were doing in Charms."

Now Zoe bit her lip, looking at her wand cautiously. She heard her father huff the way he always did when he was mildly annoyed.

"What is it?"

Zoe looked up to her father.

"You want me to cast the charm on you?"

"I do not see anyone else sitting here."

"But… you're a professor…"

"I thought we had agreed that when we were alone together, I was your father first."

Zoe squirmed. "I know, but… then… you're my father and I—"

"Zoe," her father said sternly enough to gain her attention. "Cast your charm. I'm hardly concerned that you'll get it wrong and leave me laughing maniacally forever."

"Are you sure?"

"Cast your charm," he said again, his tone brooking no further argument.

"Okay."

Zoe raised her wand and pointed it over the table and straight at her father's face.

"_Exsisto hilaris_," she incanted.

Her father's face remained impassive, which didn't surprise Zoe. She knew the charm wouldn't work; it hadn't worked in class. She needed more practice.

Zoe sat back in her chair, glaring daggers at her wand as if it was at fault for her inadequate spellwork when, suddenly, her father let out a bark of laughter. It was loud and exuberant, yet completely suited to him. Zoe had only heard him do it a few times in her whole life—it wasn't often that he showed such mirth. She liked the sound of it.

"It worked?" she asked moving closer to the table, sitting on the very edge of her chair, looking at her father with wide eyes.

"Of course it worked," her father said, grinning uncharacteristically. "I'm laughing at nothing in particular, aren't I?"

"You're not having a go at me?"

"Having a go?" her father repeated, then started to laugh again. "No. When have you ever known me to 'have a go'?"

That was true. Leave it to her father to continue to be highly logical despite the spell that was completely crumbling his normally such dour and stern demeanor.

"So… it really worked?"

Her father continued to laugh. "It would seem so. Have you learned the counter spell yet?"

That was followed by another bark of exuberant laughter that her father promptly tried to stifle. Zoe started to grin and giggle herself, enjoying seeing her father so, well, cheerful. Besides that, the whole situation was just so utterly ridiculous that she couldn't help but get amusement out of it.

"No," she said. "Professor Flitwick assigned it for homework."

Her father nodded, his face now turning a bit red from trying to hold in the laughter. He reached into his robes, pulled his own wand out, and pointed it at himself.

"_Subsisto_."

Instantly, his features sobered. Zoe, however, was still grinning madly as her father shook his head as if getting some odd feeling from it and turned his eyes upon his daughter.

"What's the problem? Your charm work seems perfectly proficient to me. Incredibly strong, in fact."

The grin left Zoe's face then. "I don't know. It didn't happen like that in class."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I couldn't get Lottie to smile even just a little bit."

A single eyebrow rose on her father's face. "Were you upset before your Charms class, perhaps? Did something happen in Herbology or at breakfast?"

Zoe looked away toward the tall windows of the DADA classroom. Subtly, she shook her head.

"Zoe," her father said sternly. "You're lying."

Zoe turned to look her father in the eyes. "I'm not. Nothing happened in Herbology or at breakfast."

That was true as well. It had happened between the two events.

"Yet, your mind was so preoccupied that you couldn't concentrate on a simple spell in Charms. Why?"

"I don't know," Zoe said a bit hotly.

A single eyebrow rose on her father's face and as he continued to watch her, Zoe felt the urge to look away, and did so. She was so angry with Celeste Aaron and, yet, she was experiencing such an intense level of embarrassment and shame about the situation that she couldn't even look her father in the eye.

"All right. You don't know," she heard her father say. He seemed a bit perturbed as he took up his knife and fork once more and began cutting something on his plate. "Will you please pass the pumpkin juice?"

Zoe looked to her father's face again, but his expression had become unreadable as he focused on his meal. She sat forward and reached for the pitcher of juice but before she had even grabbed it, the object rose up an inch or so and scooted toward her father's side of the table before landing almost silently before him.

Her eyes widened in shock, gazing at the hand outstretched over the table. Slowly, she moved her eyes up and met her father's. She hoped he hadn't seen it for she had never gotten around to explaining to him the experiments she had tried back at Spinner's End before she'd come to Hogwarts. As she read the expression on his face, however, she knew that he had witnessed her trick.

"Wandless magic," he stated. "You haven't even completed your first term. Where did you learn to banish objects without a wand?"

Zoe quickly sat back in her chair, staring at the pitcher almost in revulsion. Why did that have to come out now? They hadn't even started to discuss her father's demeanor or her ideas for his class and now all he was going to want to know about was her wandless magic.

"I didn't learn it," she said quietly after a few moments. "I mean, I remembered levitating things without a wand when I was little and I tried it again a couple of times after I got my wand. That's the first time it's happened without me thinking about it, though."

"Yes, you were very proficient with levitation, even as a toddler," her father commented. "I'm assuming you were experimenting during your late-night, spell-practicing this summer?"

Zoe nodded.

Her father looked upon her for what felt like an eternity, appraising her.

"And now you can banish," he said finally, merely stating it as fact. "Your magic is starting to manifest in some very interesting ways, I must say. First, your eyes and now these continued wandless abilities."

Her father took a bite of his food while Zoe looked down at her plate, moving her mashed potatoes around. He didn't sound upset that she hadn't told him about practicing the wandless magic before term started, which was good for her, she supposed. However, he'd warped her back to something Celeste had said several weeks previously.

"Some kids said that my eyes are weird," she said, a bit downhearted. "They said I was a freak, just like the Muggle kids said."

"Zoe, look at me right now."

Her father's words were sharp and authoritative. She looked up instantly and met his eyes.

"You are _not_ a freak. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Zoe said a bit defiantly, looking away. She didn't know why she suddenly felt so angry and standoffish about this. She was just…embarrassed, she supposed… again.

"Zoe," her father said her name again softer, though still stern, making her avert her attention and her eyes back to him. "You are not a freak. You have a rare ability, but that ability and your talents are nothing to be ashamed of and you shouldn't allow the jealous sentiments of some brainless adolescents to make you feel self-conscious about them."

This time, his tone was so much less forceful that it made Zoe almost feel like crying, but she held it back. Slowly, after gaining her composure and looking her father directly in the eye, she nodded. After a few more moments, her father took up the pitcher she had pushed toward him and poured some juice for himself.

"Now," he said, taking a sip from his goblet before placing it on the table in front of him. "Let's discuss Defense classes. You have made it abundantly clear that you disapprove of the way that I teach, that you dislike the tactics I used with students long before you were ever even born. So let's try to come to some concessions that the both of us can agree upon."

Zoe perked up now that they had finally changed the subject. She continued eating.

In the end, her and her father had agreed that a few of his tactics were unnecessary and found some middle ground on several details regarding both of their behaviors in class—namely, that he would cease trying to incite fear in his students and that Zoe would cease with her cheeky, disrespectful retorts. They had also brainstormed the implementation of an incentive system for those students who participated regularly and consistently turned in assignments on time as well as a rule to revoke and replace practical exercises and dueling privileges with written essays for those students who didn't do their homework or misbehaved in class in some way. Of course, there was still the risk of losing house points and detention in those instances as well. Finally, her father agreed to find a way to add group projects into the curriculum as a form of research for topics that the students may be interested in, but wouldn't necessarily be focused on as much during the course of the school year.

Their negotiations had hit a slight snag once, however, toward the end of their conversations.

"Is there anything else?" her father asked as he took the final bite of his pudding.

Zoe thought for a minute and then fidgeted. There was one other thing that she wanted to broach, but she wasn't really sure how her father would take it or whether he'd be receptive to the idea. She took a large gulp of pumpkin juice in order to stall a bit. Then she resolved herself; this was important to her and she would regret it later if she didn't say something.

"There is one thing," she said tentatively, looking at her fork, but eyeing her father through her eyelashes.

"What's that?"

"Well, you said you'd try not to be so mean anymore but… all the other professors point out when a student does something good, or answers a question with the right answer. They give house points, too. You never do that."

A single eyebrow rose on her father's face. Zoe continued on.

"You only tell students when they do something wrong. You don't praise them."

"That is not really my…style of teaching, Zoe," her father explained rather blandly as if merely informing her of how it was. He didn't seem to see the problem with his methods. "Students know they've done well if they receive no response from me. If they've managed to make it through an entire class without a rebuke, then they have succeeded in that lesson. Their marks will reflect this as well."

Zoe shook her head. "Why can't you tell them that they did a good job, if they did? You used to tell me that at home."

Her father let out a long sigh. She knew she'd gotten him with that one and she knew that it wasn't going to be easy for him to explain why he did that.

"We're going to have to compromise on this one, I think," he said. "Verbal praise is unlikely to be forthcoming unless a student has absolutely astonished me with their prowess in some way. However, I can attempt to be less…frugal…in the presentation of house points. That isn't to say that I will be nearly as liberal as some of your other professors, but if a student goes above and beyond, I would agree that it is only fair that they be rewarded accordingly. Though, keep in mind that this is a considerable compromise. I do not believe it necessary to constantly dote upon and give rewards for tasks that are known expectations. I concede because you think it will encourage you and your peers to be more diligent students."

Zoe nodded knowing that was likely to be the best she could do in regard to that subject. She gave her father a small smile and then stretched her hand across the table to him. He eyed it for a moment and then locked eyes with her, a single eyebrow raised in question.

"What is this?" he asked.

"We made a deal. We should shake on it."

"This is not a business transaction, Zoe."

Zoe shrugged, still holding her hand out to him stubbornly. Her father rolled his eyes at her persistence, but reached out and gave her hand a firm shake. Zoe smiled triumphantly.

"You should get back to your dormitory," he said then, standing up from his chair and beginning to clear the various dishes from their meal and dessert from the table with his wand. "I think you've been in 'detention' long enough."

Zoe stood to gather her rucksack, watching her father as he used a spell to transport all of the dishes to the Hogwarts kitchens magically. That made her remember something…

"Papa? What was that spell?"

He looked at her, having just transfigured their table back into a desk.

"You shall have to be more specific."

"The one you used outside the classroom today. It wasn't like a silencing charm, but my ears got a little fuzzy when I felt you cast the spell."

Her father gave what seemed to be a proud smirk coupled with a slight look of smugness. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing directly in front of her, and began talking in his teaching voice.

"It is called _Muffliato_. It creates a distinctive, yet unclear, barrier between a conversation and others—distinctive to the caster, unclear to those he or she wishes to keep oblivious. It was designed to discourage eavesdropping, even in close proximity to others."

"That's brilliant! Where did you learn it?" Zoe asked excitedly.

"I created it."

Zoe's eyes widened. "You invented a spell?"

"_Spells_. That one is among several."

Zoe was wholly impressed with her father. After coming to Hogwarts, she was learning so many new and interesting things about him. Some things, like his classroom demeanor, she would prefer she had never known, but making up spells… that was something she was incredibly content to learn.

She pulled out her wand then, holding it in the ready position at her side that all of the teachers were instructing the first years to do. She looked up to her father, trying to convey in her eyes her eagerness.

"The incantation is _Muffliato_?" she asked, just to make sure she had the pronunciation correct.

Her father arched an eyebrow at her again, but took a step back and leaned against the teacher desk, crossing his arms over his chest now and watching her curiously. He nodded his head once. Zoe smiled briefly, and then began to focus her attention on the spell she was about to cast.

"_Muffliato_," she said clearly after a few moments.

Almost instantly, she felt the same fuzzy feeling in her ears that she had felt earlier in the day. She was still able to hear, however. The feeling, it seemed, was merely the indication that the spell was doing its job.

"It worked?" she asked, looking up to her father excitedly.

He had a very defined frown on his face as he held a finger to his right ear as if trying to get it to work properly.

"Papa?" she asked, taking a step toward him and gaining his attention.

He looked at her then, seeming to understand something, and his expression changed.

"It would be prudent to teach you the counter, it seems," he said, his voice sounding slightly far away due to the fuzziness of her ears.

"Can't you just counter it?" Zoe asked, wrinkling her brow. Her father merely shook his head.

"I cannot hear you. I am not within the bubble of your spell. Were you asking if I could counter it?"

Zoe nodded and her father shook his head again.

"This spell isn't meant to be countered by anyone but the caster, but that doesn't mean that a weak version couldn't be nullified by a stronger counter from an outside source. It would seem, however, that your version of the spell is far from weak. _Exaudio_, should do it."

Zoe nodded again and incanted the spell. She looked to her father expectantly and watched as he shook his head, clearing it of the buzzing she was sure he had been experiencing. He looked on her with a satisfied smirk.

"Very good, Zoe. It took you no time to master that particular, fourth year-level spell."

"Thanks, Papa," Zoe said, grinning, as she pocketed her wand.

Her father inclined his head. "Now, it really is getting late."

He walked forward as Zoe turned toward the exit. As he caught up to her, he put his hand on her back and walked beside her across the classroom to the door.

"Now that we have made these concessions for each other, may we finally agree to remain non-confrontational as teacher and student?" he asked as they came to a stop at the door.

Zoe gave a small smile. "Yes," she said, coming forward to embrace her father briefly. She stepped back and gave a goodbye wave to him.

He nodded once. "Tell your peers that I had you mopping the third floor classrooms. I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

Zoe rolled her eyes and smiled at that before exiting.

* * *

><p>Halloween came and went and before Zoe knew it, they were over halfway through November. The days were supposedly getting shorter, but considering the crisp, miserable chill of the weather and the amount of homework the teachers were piling on as they ramped up toward the Christmas holidays, it felt very much like the days dragged on and on.<p>

There was still a lot of talk around the school about the Dark witches and wizards that had been released from Azkaban, but Zoe paid little attention to it owing to the fact that she had been preoccupied with worry for some of her friends.

Caroline had taken ill after the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor that had taken place during a particularly rainy and cold day. Her friends, including Zoe, had once again been fearful that one among their ranks had contracted elven influenza. After all, since Glendora's short illness, _The Daily Prophet_ had started reporting outbreaks of the illness occurring in Britain nearly every week, and Hogwarts had been abuzz with speculation as to whether it would hit the school.

Of course, when John had voiced that fear to the sweet-natured girl during a visit to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had scolded him fiercely for bringing such distress to one of her patients before shooing the lot of them from the ward.

It turned out that Caroline had merely had a bad cold. She was therefore released after only two days of bed rest and a regimen of helpful potions.

The same day as Caroline's return to classes, Glendora had received the horrible news that her grandmother had passed away. With just three and a half weeks to the Christmas holidays, she had been whisked away to Germany until the start of the next term. That had left Zoe, Lottie, John, and Caroline rather melancholy for a few days, but their moods had livened up a bit with the first large snowfall of the year.

Unfortunately, the beautiful, white powder had fallen on the grounds in the middle of the week, leaving the young inhabitants of the castle rather eager to get to the weekend. As soon as Friday afternoon came, the group of first years made sure to layer their clothing and put on their thickest cloaks and scarves before making the trek out into the frigid air to build snowmen and igloos on the grounds and to have a raucous snowball fight that left them all tired and wet.

Zoe's good mood had disappeared yet again, though, when owing to his needing to brew a large batch of some potion or other as a last minute request from a client, her father had canceled their weekly tea, which they were to have had that Saturday. She was even further disappointed when Lottie informed her that she would be gone for the duration of the weekend due to some state event that she was expected to attend as the daughter of a prominent earl. Her parents had arrived for her in the late afternoon that day, leaving Zoe alone in the Slytherin common room.

She knew there was no point trying to find her Ravenclaw friends. Saturday nights were for studying in Ravenclaw House and Caroline and John had already informed her that they would be occupied all of Sunday as well for even more revising, this time with older students who would act as tutors.

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought of so much revising. She wasn't against academics, of course; she had an ingrained love for learning. But after years of homeschooling, studying had become something of a solitary endeavor for her. And it never took her that long to feel confident in the material she was learning. At least, she never got low marks, even when she hadn't spent as long on a subject as she maybe could have.

So, it was with the resignation of a weekend of solitude and in an effort to get away from the loud common room that Zoe ventured up to the Astronomy Tower on Saturday afternoon, the newest _Cleo_ _Callisto_ novel in her hand, to look out over the grounds and read.

In all honesty, the Astronomy Tower had quickly become her favorite spot in all of Hogwarts—mainly only when it was empty. Not only was it quiet when there weren't classes going on, but the view of the mountains and the lake and the forest was truly amazing. And, even though it appeared to be open to the elements owing to its need to accommodate students with their telescopes, a spell kept the chilly, damp air away from Zoe. She therefore had all the benefits of being on top of the world while still snuggly encased in the warmth of the castle walls.

She had stayed reading for hours. The late afternoon had quickly turned to darkness but by the light of several torches in sconces that had ignited unasked, she had continued to stay on the Tower; she was so engrossed in her book. The heroine of her book, Cleo, had just managed to fight off some water demons in her quest to save the crowned prince of her realm when something clamored to the floor behind the chair Zoe sat in.

She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide, as she pulled her wand from the pocket of her robes. Squinting into the darkness, she couldn't really see anything, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the flames around her.

"Who's there?" she asked, standing up and holding her wand out in front of her. "_Lumos_."

Just as the tip of her wand flared brightly to life, she caught movement behind one of the large, school-owned telescopes. As her eyes gradually adjusted, a figure walked toward her, swooped down to pick up what appeared to be a wand, before coming fully into view.

"Merlin, do you have any idea what time it is?" James Potter asked incredulously, squinting against the brighter area where Zoe had been occupying herself.

Zoe lowered her wand and shrugged. "Around dinner time?"

James looked at her in disbelief. "Er, try almost eleven."

Zoe's eyes widened. "Eleven?! But that means—"

"That you're in _so_ much trouble for being out after curfew?" he said in a teasing voice, as if he didn't really believe that but was just playing into her anxiousness about the late hour. "Yeah, pretty much."

Zoe gave the boy a sour glare. "What about _you_? You're out after curfew, too."

James merely shrugged, which aggravated her.

"I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I usually come up to the Astronomy Tower when that happens."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, curious about his honesty. She wondered why he couldn't sleep. She only wondered it briefly, however, before she realized whom she was talking with and pushed it from her mind.

"You've never gotten caught?" she asked.

James looked back to her from where he had been gazing toward the soft glow of the lights of Hogsmeade. He gave an impish smile.

"No."

Zoe was flabbergasted. "How? Teachers and prefects patrol at night, don't they?"

"Yeah, but I have the Marauder's Map," the Gryffindor said simply.

"The what?"

Now there was a definite mischievous gleam in James's eyes as he walked toward the small table Zoe had situated near her reading chair. Once there, he pulled an old piece of parchment from the front pocket of his hoodie and placed it on the table. Then he sat down on his knees beside it and looked up at Zoe. He motioned to her to join him down there. Curiously, Zoe took to her knees beside the table as well, looking down at the parchment as James pulled his wand out of the pocket of his pajamas bottoms.

"Tap it," he said, "Ask it what it is."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Ask the parchment what it is? You said it was a map."

Was this boy mad?

"I know. It is. But ask it anyway," James encouraged.

Zoe rolled her eyes, but put her wand tip to the edge of the parchment nonetheless.

"What are you?" she breathed out with annoyance and skepticism. She was actually glaring at James, but when his eyes averted down, Zoe looked down as well, surprised to see words written there.

"_The real question is: __**who**__ are we."_

Zoe's eyes widened. She quickly reached out and pulled up the parchment, looking beneath it.

James merely grinned. "The map is magical, it isn't a trick."

Zoe pursed her lips. "Papa says I should never trust any magical object that doesn't have a place to keep its brain."

James snorted amusedly. "Yeah, my granddad says that, too. But this is different. Go on, ask another question."

Zoe cautiously set the parchment back down and tapped it again. "Ok, _who_ are you?"

"_Prongs and I think you should say who you are first. Friend or foe?"_

"Prongs?" Zoe asked, looking at James.

"Just say 'friend'," he said.

"Friend," Zoe said. "Who's Prongs?"

"_Well, friend, he would tell you that he's dashing and brilliant but, as his best mate, I happen to know he's nothing more than a tosser."_

"And who are you?" Zoe asked.

"_Oi! I said, you first!"_

"You said 'Prongs and I'. So, you already started the introductions. I just figured it would be polite to finish them," Zoe stated.

"_I— But, you—"_

James started laughing then, causing Zoe to look up at him. She was confused.

"What?"

"You managed to make Sirius speechless!" The boy laughed.

Zoe shook her head, not knowing whom Sirius was, and looked back down at the parchment where an explosion of various handwritten messages had materialized.

"_She got you, Padfoot!"_ one line said.

"_You can't deny that she has a point,"_ another said.

"_I didn't deny it!_ _We may not all be prefects, Moony, but I know logic when I see it,"_ the final one read before: _"Shut it, Prongs!"_

"_Perhaps, if you ask her politely what her name is, she will tell you."_

"_Good idea… I beg your pardon, Miss. If you would be so kind as to give us your name, we would be much obliged… Polite enough for you, Moony?"_

"_Quite."_

Again, Zoe looked up to James, perplexed.

"Go on, tell them who you are."

"But _who_ am I talking to?" she asked, exasperated, but put her wand to the parchment once again anyway. "My name is Zoe. I go Hogwarts. I'm in Slytherin House."

"_A Slytherin! I sure hope you're steering clear of old Snivelly… last I heard he was swooping around the dungeons like a greasy, overgrown ba—"_

"Ok," James said, snatching the parchment up off the table quickly, ignoring the protest that Zoe had started to voice. "Here's what it really does…"

He opened up the parchment a bit more and put his wand to it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

As he lay the parchment down once more, lines of ink started to materialize on the page forming rooms and passageways, stairwells and doorways. Zoe watched in awe as every bit of Hogwarts Castle and the grounds was created and labeled before her eyes. Once it stopped, she read the introduction at the top.

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are pleased to present The Marauder's Map."

Then she watched in awe as the name Wormtail was angrily scribbled out. She looked back to James.

"Wormtail was a traitor," James said simply in explanation.

Zoe nodded distractedly for she had just noticed all the moving dots upon the page.

"Are those—?"

"Names? Yeah," James stated. "It shows everyone in the castle. Where they are, where they walk to."

Zoe could clearly see that. At each of the areas where she knew that there were dormitories, the concentration of names was so large that she could only read a few of them. The rest of the castle was considerably easier. She saw Minerva's name right off the bat, sitting idle in her office. Mr. Filch, the ancient caretaker, was hobbling along the Entrance Hall, not too far from an alcove that seemed to be currently occupied by Head Boy Lukas Andersen and a sixth year Ravenclaw named Olivia Rote.

Zoe looked up to James once more, amazed.

"This is brilliant!" she said. "Where'd you get it?"

James shrugged. "Family heirloom. It's wicked, isn't it?"

Zoe nodded her agreement, but then wrinkled her brow. "But why did you show it to me?"

"You have to get back down to the dungeons, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, this will keep us from getting caught. Come on."

James stood then, snatching up the map as he did so, and started his way toward the exit to the Astronomy Tower.

As they gradually traversed the halls and stairwells toward the dungeons, James continuously looked at the map, his lit wand held close to it for easy reading.

"We're lucky. There aren't too many teachers or prefects out tonight."

"Are there usually a lot?"

James nodded. "I think they have five or six teachers on patrol duty during the week and usually four prefects, with one or two teachers that stay on really late. The weekends always seem different. Sometimes, they are just as busy as the week or sometimes there are hardly any teachers about."

Zoe nodding, locking that information away.

"Which teachers do you see?"

James stopped in his tracks. "Miss Gwenog is on the fourth floor, but way over by the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, so no worries there. If Remus stays where he is now, I'm going to have a pretty long trek back to Gryffindor, but other than that… oh, bloody hell."

"What?"

James didn't answer immediately. Instead, he shoved Zoe into an alcove behind a conveniently placed set of armor.

"What?" Zoe asked, squeezed between the wall, the armor, and James. "What's wrong?"

"Snape. He's just down the corridor and around the corner."

"Is he coming this way?"

"Yeah. But he stopped—probably to look in a classroom. If we stay here, he'll see us for sure, but there's nowhere to _go_. And I _really_ can't get another detention. Not this week, anyway…"

Zoe bit her lip anxiously, trying to think of a way to get out of their predicament. She knew that if they were caught in this alcove or out in the corridor, she was just as likely as James to land herself in detention. Not to mention, she'd have a tough time explaining to her father why she was caught in the company of one of the students that he cared for the least.

She poked her head out of the alcove, scanning around for somewhere they could run to, but there really was nowhere to go, just as James had said.

"I know we're in for it, you stupid, bloody map!" James hissed lowly, glaring down at the item in his hands.

Zoe craned her head over him to look as well. In response to James's outburst, the Marauder's Map had responded with a very emphatic, _"Oi! Watch your language!"_

"Sorry, Granddad," James grumbled, looking anxiously at Zoe.

But Zoe merely shook her head. There was nothing for it. If something didn't change in their circumstances, they were both going to be caught out after curfew. She needed to think of something to get them out of this.

No… Something to get _James_ out of this. After all, he had tried to help her get back to her dormitory safely and the situation had just gotten out of his control. The least she could do was help him try to stay out of detention.

As she watched the little dot that read 'Severus Snape' moving along the adjacent corridor toward them, an idea popped into her head.

Looking at James with determination, she handed him her _Cleo Callisto_ book. He gave her a perplexed look.

"I'll distract him. You go back to Gryffindor. And hold onto my book for me, I'll want it back."

And with that, she left the alcove, taking a direct path toward her father.

"Papa!" she exclaimed, acting both excited and relieved to see him as she came around the corner. She ran to him and threw her arms around him.

There was a pause before her father pulled her away from him. Zoe saw him look around cautiously before looking down at her with a look of stern confusion on his face.

"What are you doing out of your dormitory? It is well after curfew."

"I was looking for you," she lied smoothly.

When her father arched a skeptical eyebrow, she launched into a very improvised explanation.

"I fell asleep about an hour ago, I think. But I woke up after a _horrible_ nightmare. I was really scared and so, I came to find you."

Her father's face was tinged with a bit of concern now, though the skepticism hadn't entirely gone away.

"You were looking for me on the fourth floor?"

"No… I… lost count of the floors when I was climbing the stairs. Then I got turned around in the dark."

She didn't know if he would buy that. She had been walking these corridors for several months now, after all. It seemed silly that she would get lost.

"What was the nightmare about?" he asked after a moment, either believing her, or ignoring her obvious lie. He reached out and pushed a lock of her hair out of her face and behind her ear.

Zoe looked away briefly. She hadn't had a chance to think about what her imaginary dream had been about.

"Dragons," she said quickly. "There were two and they were attacking Hogwarts and you and Minerva and all the other teachers were trying to hold them back, but they were so strong and there was fire and—" Zoe launched herself at her father again so that he couldn't read the tall tale in her facial features. "I was so scared."

He allowed her to squeeze her arms around him for a few moments before he put a hand on the back of her head and rubbed her back reassuringly with the other.

"It is over now," he said. "And unless the Triwizard Tournament makes a return to Hogwarts, I highly doubt that the school is at risk of a dragon attack."

"What's the Triwizard Tournament?" Zoe asked into her father's black robes, wrinkling her brow.

Her father's hand on her back stopped moving abruptly. "Never mind," he said dismissively and then gave her back a gentle pat, encouraging her to pull away.

Zoe, inhaling deeply and, feeling like she could continue the ruse without hiding her face, did just that and looked up into her father's eyes.

"I feel much better seeing you. Will you go with me back to Slytherin?"

Her father inclined his head in the affirmative.

"Yes. You must be escorted."

As they walked down into the dungeons, Zoe couldn't help but continuously look over her shoulder. She hoped that map of James's had worked in helping him to get back to Gryffindor Tower while Zoe had created the diversion with her father.

Although he lectured her lightly on the importance of staying in her dormitory at night, her father didn't take away any house points or give her a detention for her late night wandering. She couldn't help but wonder if that would have been the case had she not lied completely, simply telling him that she had lost track of the time as she read her book up on the Astronomy Tower. Even if she hadn't been trying to keep James out of trouble, she wondered if her father would have at least taken away points if he hadn't felt so sorry for her.

"What if I have another nightmare?" Zoe asked curiously, as they came to the entrance into the Slytherin common room.

She knew tonight had been a lie, but she hadn't given much thought to what she would do if she really did have a bad dream. At home, her father was always just a stairwell away from her. Here, he was miles away and she wasn't even allowed to come find him.

She saw a flash of something in her father's features for a moment, but he quickly removed the conflicted look from his face.

"I cannot appear to show favoritism. Every other child in this school does not have their parents on hand to talk to or comfort them if they have nightmares. As I understand it, many write letters to their mothers and fathers. There is no reason why you couldn't do the same. My advice would be to try to fall back asleep after your nightmare, and then write to me in the morning."

"Write you a letter here?" Zoe asked curiously.

"Yes, you could choose the slowest, laziest owl in the owlery and I imagine it would still take little time to get to me."

Zoe giggled.

"Okay."

He gave a resolved nod. "While I have you here, I've been meaning to ask you if you had given any thought to what you would like for Christmas this year."

"A broom," Zoe said immediately and then winced. She _had_ given a lot of thought to what she wanted this year, but she had meant to bring it up subtly. She had wanted to ease her father into the idea of one gradually, but now she'd mussed it all up by not thinking about what she wanted before she spoke.

Her father's face told her his answer before he ever even spoke. "No. Hogwarts students are not allowed broomsticks as first years."

"But—" she started, but stopped. She knew it was futile to argue. She sighed. "Some nice stationery, maybe, for writing letters to my friends over the summer holidays.

Her father nodded once more. "_Serpentes_ _supernus_," he said, giving the password into the common room.

Zoe rolled her eyes this time. Serpent superiority. She hated that password. It had been that for over a week and the two previous had been similarly aggravating.

"Papa, can't you make them change it?" she asked as she walked toward the entry that had just formed.

"The prefects decide on the passwords," he stated simply. "Unless it is vulgar, I do not intervene."

"What if it's impolite or… or offensive to other houses?"

Her father quirked an eyebrow. "Those in other houses should not have knowledge of the passwords for Slytherin House, therefore it would be impossible for any of them to be offended no matter how impolite it may seem. Personally, I see it as nothing more than House pride."

"Maybe…" Zoe said vaguely, not really wanting to argue with him. Personally, she thought they were trying to say something about their actual superiority and it was not merely a statement of friendly competition.

"Goodnight, Papa."

* * *

><p>Lottie had returned from being with her family so late on Sunday evening that Zoe didn't get a chance to see her friend until after she had showered and prepared for the day on Monday morning.<p>

Shrugging into her school robes, she left her own room, where she had noticed that Cecilia, who was normally just rising by that time in the morning, was conspicuously absent. Thinking little of it, however, Zoe went directly to the door to Lottie, Abigail, and Persimmon's room across the corridor and knocked lightly, but there was no response. Wrinkling her brow in confusion and wondering if Lottie and the other two girls had already left to go to breakfast, Zoe turned the door handle and tentatively stepped into the room.

Nobody was there, but almost instantly, she heard talking coming from the direction of the bathroom. She made her way around Persimmon's bed and strode toward the en suite. Finding the door cracked, she peeked inside.

"We just want to know where you were over the weekend. We're only curious."

Zoe recognized that voice instantly as that of Celeste Aaron. This could not be good.

Peering around the door for a better look, she saw the fifth year and Cecilia standing over Lottie, who was sitting on the floor next to the bath with a decidedly distressed look on her face. Persimmon Welch and Abigail Mulciber, though not directly involved, it seemed, were standing off to the side, watching the whole thing.

"Just tell her, Lottie," Cecilia said meanly. "We know you weren't at any wizarding event."

"It's none of your business where I was," Lottie stated bravely, but Zoe could see the apprehension in her friend's eyes.

Zoe glanced briefly down to Celeste's hand and, spotting that the girl had her wand drawn, she understood Lottie's fear. Slowly and quietly, Zoe pulled her own wand out of her robes and held it at the ready.

Celeste took a small step back from Lottie, looking at the younger girl with disdain.

"It looks like she isn't going to tell us what she was up to… I guess we're left to just… _assume_ that she's a Mudblood," Celeste stated. "You know, back when purebloods got to make the rules, Mudbloods weren't allowed wands."

Celeste pointed her wand straight at Lottie's head then.

"Give me your wand."

Zoe had had enough of watching. She pushed the door open forcefully, making Persimmon squeal in surprise. She pointed her wand straight at Celeste.

"Leave her alone," she said.

Celeste turned, a stupid, smug, and overly-confident grin on her face.

"Ah, it's the teacher's pet," she said. "Didn't Mummy and Daddy ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?"

"Leave Lottie alone," Zoe said again, ignoring Celeste's derision and trying to keep her voice steady in the face of such uneven odds. "She didn't do anything to you."

Celeste snorted in snide amusement. "Yes, she did. She refused to tell us which side of her family the magic runs through. We find that highly offensive."

"What does it matter?" Zoe asked hotly.

Celeste glared at Zoe maliciously, calculatingly. "You know, come to think of it, we don't know what your blood status is either," she said. "I've never heard of a wizarding family with the surname Agnew."

She walked toward Zoe then, infringing on her personal space.

"I'll tell you what. Let's make a deal. If you tell us who _your_ parents are, your friend goes, and you get to keep your wand."

Zoe was certain her eyes were crimson at this point, but she reined her temper back as much as she could. It would not do to start firing off hexes in such a confined space; everyone would get hurt. That didn't mean she didn't sorely want to…

She knew it would be unwise to tell them anything for Lottie was, in fact, a Muggleborn and it was obvious that, was she to be found out, she would be feeling the brunt of rejection and torment from many in their house, not just this particular group of bullies. As for Zoe's parentage… well, she had a Muggle mother and for whatever reason, her father had yet to lift his edict that she not tell her classmates of their relationship.

There was little choice for Zoe here. As long as these girls merely _believed_ that her and Lottie were Muggleborns but didn't really know for sure, they were as safe as they could be. They were the least vulnerable as long as Celeste Aaron was operating exclusively on her own assumptions.

"What if I don't want to tell you?" Zoe spat back to the other girl defiantly.

Celeste turned and pointed her wand at Lottie. "Then, I think your friend would look adorable with antlers."

Lottie's eyes widened in fear of the hex she had just been threatened with. Zoe had to think of something, and fast. Almost instantaneously, she raised her own wand and pointed it at Cecilia, who took a step back, also fearful.

"If you hex Lottie, I'll hex Cecilia," she said.

Celeste looked affronted, but not for long. She turned quickly and turned her wand upon Zoe instead.

"Oh, no you won't!" she roared.

The next thing Zoe knew, she was lying flat on her back on the floor of the bathroom having just barely missed banging her head against the sink on her way down. Her legs and arms had been locked to her sides; she couldn't move anything on her body except her eyes. She could just barely breathe.

Celeste came forward and stood over her. "Don't you dare threaten my sister ever again, you filthy Mudblood."

The older girl released Zoe from the spell after a few seconds, but pounced on top of her almost instantly, holding Zoe's arms pinned to the floor. Zoe struggled, but it was of little use, especially when Cecilia sat down on top of her legs in order to stop her kicking about.

"Please don't hurt her!" Lottie cried, large tears streaming down her face. She tried to come forward, but her way was blocked by Abigail and Persimmon. Other than that, her plea was largely ignored by the fifth year.

"Get off me!" Zoe shouted.

"No. I think you need a lesson in respect. Until you can prove otherwise, you and your filthy friend are Mudbloods and Mudbloods don't have the right to threaten or order about a pureblood witch or wizard. It's obvious that neither one of you comes from respectable wizarding stock, or you'd know this. Like I said before: if you can't prove your magical line, then you have no claim to a wand. Since you chose to be the hero, hand yours over willingly and I'll leave _her_ alone."

Zoe turned her head just enough to see Lottie. Her friend shook her head, silently telling her not to do it, not to give in to these bullies. But Zoe couldn't do it. She couldn't stand the thought of one of her friends getting hurt.

Closing her eyes briefly, steeling herself for what she had to do, Zoe took a deep breath in and let it out, resolved. She opened her eyes and gave Celeste as fierce of glare as she could.

"Wizard's Oath, if I give you my wand, you'll leave Lottie alone?"

Celeste sneered at Zoe. "Yeah, sure, Firstie. Wizard's Oath."

"Fine," Zoe said.

Celeste let go of Zoe's right arm and Zoe held out her beautiful, African Blackwood wand to the enemy. The fifth year took it triumphantly and stood, sticking it in her robes pocket. Cecilia stood as well, releasing Zoe's legs.

"Hey, Cecilia. Looks like you'll be able to get further up in the class ranks. I see some failed marks in the teacher's pet's immediate future."

Cecilia let out a small giggle.

"Come on, let's go to breakfast," Celeste said, before turning to Zoe briefly. "I wouldn't tell any professors or prefects what went on in here, if I was you. Nobody likes a snitch. And… I sure you don't want your wand back in two pieces…"

And with that, she and all the other first years left, leaving Zoe and Lottie in the bathroom alone.

Lottie was still crying and Zoe had angry tears forming in her eyes as she sat up, rubbing the back of her head where a knot was forming from having hit it on the hard floor.

"I'm so sorry, Zoe. I— I don't even know what started all that. I was just in here brushing my teeth when Celeste came in with Cecilia and started asking me where I had gone over the weekend. But I knew I couldn't tell them, and then Persimmon and Abby came in a couple of minutes later, but they just joined Cecilia's side. And… are you all right? You fell really hard when Celeste put you in the Full Body-Bind."

Zoe shook her head. "I'm fine."

She didn't want to be short with her friend, but she was experiencing such an overwhelming number of emotions just then: anger, shame, confusion, resentment, more anger. She looked up to Lottie, trying to settle herself.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Lottie nodded. "They didn't do anything to me but threaten. Though, I think they would have taken my wand away had you not… well, given Celeste yours. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. I'll get it back."

After that, her and Lottie had quickly composed themselves before heading to breakfast. They sat together at the farthest side of the Slytherin table, closest to the High Table and as far away from Celeste and Cecilia as they could possibly get. They ate almost silently.

Zoe was certain that Lottie was brooding quite strongly next to her, reflecting on the whole incident, but Zoe was just trying to think of something she could do to have her wand returned to her. She'd only had it for a few months, but she never realized how vulnerable and naked she would feel without it.

She had stated fairly confidently to Lottie that she would get it back, but she didn't know how that was going to happen. She was certain that Celeste wouldn't just get bored of lording over Zoe that she had her wand and there was no way that Zoe would stoop to begging for it back.

Therefore, in the meantime, until she could figure out how to get it back, she had to try to conceal the fact from her professors that her wand had been stolen. And she knew that would be no easy feat on that particular day alone.

Herbology wouldn't be a problem; they never used their wands in that class anyway. Charms was a bit more of a challenge, but Zoe was certain that as soon as the lecture ended and practice began, she could convince Professor Flitwick that she wasn't feeling well and she knew that he would allow her to leave class in order to lie down in the hospital wing. It was after lunch where everything was likely to fall apart.

Wands were required in practical Defense lessons and if she told her father that she was ill, he was unlikely to believe her unless she was running a fever or otherwise retching up her lunch in class. All she could hope for was a full class period of lecture.

However, as she walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that afternoon—having managed to get through her morning classes without incident—to find that the student desks had already been pushed out of the way to the sides of the classroom in order to make room for a practical lesson, Zoe felt that she may not even have to fake an illness. She was feeling practically faint with the knowledge that she was about to face her father in class wandless and have to lie to him should he ask her where it was.

"Miss Agnew, you cannot possibly hope to cast either of these spells without your wand. Take it out now so that we may continue with the lesson."

Zoe snapped out of her worried reverie. She looked up quickly at her father who stood across the room from the assembled students, incanting the correct pronunciation of the Jelly-Legs Jinx and its counter and demonstrating the correct wand movement. She hadn't realized that class had even started.

"I— I can't," said Zoe solemnly.

"You can't?" her father asked with a harsh, yet confused tone to his voice.

"No, sir. I can't."

Her father crossed his arms over his chest, staring at her sternly.

"Where is your wand, Miss Agnew? Have you lost it?"

There were a few sniggers amongst the crowd of Slytherins and Ravenclaws, but they ceased immediately with a glare from the professor.

"No," Zoe began, feeling nothing but dread, as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "I haven't lost it. It was—"

Zoe looked first to Lottie, who was biting her lower lip and watching her sympathetically, then to Caroline and John who looked genuinely curious as to what was going on. She then looked quickly to Cecilia who stared at her, a deep frown etched into her forehead. The girl shook her head at Zoe and Zoe averted her eyes to the floor. No matter what she did, she would suffer for this. Now it was merely a matter of deciding from whom she would prefer to suffer and she was relatively certain that her father would still have some sort of fondness for her if she lied to him—and she would still have a whole wand by doing so. Resolved, she finally looked up at him across the room.

"It was…misplaced, sir," she said. "I misplaced it."

"Misplaced?" he asked skeptically.

Zoe looked to the floor once more and nodded, but she could feel her father's eyes boring into her. He was going to be angry.

"Would you care to explain to me how you _misplaced_ your wand, Miss Agnew?" he inquired, obviously annoyed.

Zoe shook her head.

"No?"

"No, sir," said Zoe, ashamed.

Her father stared at her for several moments. "Very well. Ten points will be taken from Slytherin and you will receive a zero for this lesson," he said tersely, ignoring the groans of the other Slytherins in the room, and walking forward. When he reached her, he took her by her arm and pulled her across the room toward his desk. "And since you are unable to participate, you will sit here and write lines for the rest of the class period. I think _'Only dunderheads misplace their wands'_ is a suitable sentence."

There were more muffled sniggers from the class as her father conjured a hard, wooden chair and placed it at the end of the teacher's desk and made her sit down in it. He took a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink from the corner of his desk and placed it in front of her. "Get started. We will discuss this further at the end of the lesson."

Then he walked away to supervise the other students in the class as they attempted the jinx and counter-jinx that was the day's lesson.

Zoe started to write her lines, biting her lip to keep from crying. It had been a no-win situation. Obviously, her father was going to punish her for not having her wand in class, but if she told him what had really happened to it, Celeste Aaron would snap her wand and torment her for the rest of her life. There was no way of getting around it.

* * *

><p>When he had finally dismissed the class and levitated the student desks back to their places within the room, Severus looked up to where his daughter still sat at the end of his desk, furiously writing her lines. Sighing heavily, he strode across the room and stood over her.<p>

"Class is over. You may cease your writing," he said.

The girl threw down the quill immediately as if it had burned her and started massaging the ache in her writing hand. Zoe didn't look up at him once as he walked slowly around the desk and sat down, turning in his chair to better face his daughter.

"Zoe, where is your wand?"

"I told you, I misplaced it," she said, still focused on her hand as she fidgeted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

Severus considered his daughter critically as he reached for her hand. She was being very passive about this whole ordeal; she hadn't even tried to argue her way out of it or attempt to circumvent his authority and that was a bit unsettling.

"I can't say as though I believe you," he told her, massaging her hand and watching as the statement elicited the exact reaction he had been looking for. Her head popped up to look at him briefly, the faintest trace of panic in her features before she once more lowered her gaze to her hands.

"Was your wand taken?" he asked.

He construed her continued silence as an affirmative answer.

"Who took your wand, Zoe?" he asked a bit more forcefully.

Once again, the girl remained silent and fidgety. He let go of her hand, leaned forward, and pulled her chair toward him so that his knees now touched his daughter's. He brought his face right in front of hers.

"_Who took your wand?"_ he repeated.

Zoe simply stared at him with conviction. She didn't even blink, but her eyes gave her away. They weren't her characteristic, defiant, sky blue, but rather a dull brown. Rarely did Severus see this color from her—his daughter preferred brighter, conspicuous hues—but when he did, it often meant there was something she was hiding.

Severus let out a large sigh of frustration.

"All right, if you aren't going to say anything, just listen," he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Not only is it bad manners and immoral to steal another witch or wizard's wand, it is typically construed as a great personal insult. Now, you are only eleven, so I don't yet expect you to fully understand this, but whoever took your wand obviously thinks so little of you that such an act probably seemed to them to be the _least_ they could do to get you to comply to their whims. There is no doubt that relieving you of your one line of defense may have even elevated them to a very high level of status within whatever little clique they are incorporated into."

He watched his daughter closely for a reaction, but she had resumed her behavior of looking at her hands. He trusted that she was understanding him, so he continued.

"The theft of a wand in society often leads to duels. Some have no doubt been fatal. Here at Hogwarts, it is a very serious matter that would be taken directly to the Headmistress and could lead to the expulsion of the perpetrator. Now then, I am going to ask you once again: who stole your wand?"

Zoe merely shrugged. Severus reached out and pulled his daughter's chin up so that she was looking at him.

"I think you know."

"I can't tell you," she said finally, pulling away from him.

"You can, and you will."

"No, I can't."

"Damn it, Zoe! Talk to me."

"I'm not going to snitch, okay?" she screamed, pushing her feet against the legs of his chair and pushing away from him as her own chair legs scraped against the floor.

Severus widened his eyes at her outburst. When he spoke next, several moments later, he made sure that his voice was soft and as logical as possible.

"I can't possibly punish the culprits if I do not know who they are."

Zoe sat hunched in her chair staring at him and Severus knew he wasn't going to get anything out of her. Though he didn't convey so much as a furrowed brow to give himself away, he was fuming on the inside. This child was brilliant and kind. What gave some idiotic adolescent the right to bully her around, making her too scared to tell her teacher—her _father_—what was going on? What had they threatened her with?

No matter what it was, Severus would not stand for it. Whomever it was that was terrorizing his daughter would certainly not find themselves on the more pleasant side of the Potions Master's mood.

And he _would_ find out who it was, of _that_ he was absolutely certain. He would watch Zoe carefully over the next few days or weeks or however long it took, track her every move if he had to in order to figure it out.

He pulled his wand from his robes then, his eyes still on his daughter.

"_Accio_ Zoe's wand," he said.

Zoe looked up at him, stunned, then turned toward the door as a slight whooshing sound came from the corridor beyond. Soon, her wand was speeding toward them across the classroom.

_Obviously, the thief wasn't anyone who would think to put any wards around it,_ Severus thought as he caught the wand in midair.

Zoe immediately went to grab for it, but he pulled it away from her grasp. When she lowered her hand, he held the wand in front of her face and set his daughter with a stern expression in order to demonstrate his next point.

"This is a tool and it is a weapon and it, more than any one thing, distinguishes you as a witch. Your wand allows you to channel and control your abilities and should therefore be protected as if it is a part of you—because it is, very much, a part of you. I do not ever want to find out that you have allowed it to be taken from you again unless it is in a fair and justifiable duel. I shall be very disappointed if you do."

"Yes, sir," Zoe said softly.

Severus considered his daughter again. Though she was quiet, there was resolve to her tone and intensity in her suddenly dark blue eyes so he handed her wand to her. She quickly took it from him and examined it.

"Now, if you can demonstrate the ability to perform the day's lesson, I just may consider giving you partial credit."

Zoe's eyes found his once more and she nodded. "_Locomotor Wibbly_," she pronounced immediately, jabbing her wand towards him as he had showed the class.

Right away Severus felt as if all the musculature had been removed from the skeletal frame of his legs and he actually had to grip the edge of his desk in order to keep from sliding out of his chair; she had performed the spell better than most O.W.L. students.

"_Finite_," she murmured then.

Once his legs had been restored to their normal state, he sat up a bit straighter in his chair and cleared his throat.

"Full marks, I think, Miss Agnew… And… _fifteen_ _points_ to Slytherin for displaying exceptional aptitude for the Jelly-Legs Jinx."

"Thank you, Papa," she whispered, smiling weakly. She was still obviously ashamed by this entire ordeal and unable to properly revel in her vastly superior jinxing ability.

"Come to my office," Severus said then, rising from his chair. "We'll have some tea and I will show you a couple of simple spells to keep this from happening again."

Zoe lifted hopeful eyes to meet his. "Really?"

Severus smirked and proceeded toward his office door with his daughter following right behind him.

* * *

><p>Before Zoe had exited his office following their impromptu, private Defense lesson, Severus had tried, once more, to get something out of his daughter regarding the encounter that had left her wandless.<p>

"I wish for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me if you are having difficulties with your schoolmates," he had said, sitting in his office chair as Zoe stood in front of him, leaning against the edge of his desk.

"I know, Papa," she had said softly, refusing to look at him. "I just can't."

He had let her go to find her friends after that and now he was making his way directly to the office of the Headmistress—his marking could wait. Once at the top of the stairwell, he threw the door open and strode inside.

"Good evening, Severus," Minerva said distractedly, not even looking up from _The Daily Prophet_ laid out before her on the desk. "You know, of all my teachers, you are the only one that walks in unannounced and without even the courtesy of a knock."

Severus ignored the Headmistress's slight admonition, and sat down in the one of the chairs before her.

"However, I'm glad you're here," she continued. "I've just had a meeting with Harry. He's advising extra teachers to chaperone the next Hogsmeade weekend due to the threat of the mass-released Azkaban inmates. I've put you down to supervise The Three Broomsticks with Remus."

Severus sneered. "Potter and his department have completely ignored the threat of these individuals by releasing them and, yet, now they expect _us_ to be on high alert? Seems to me that the Aurors and the Ministry are sending some very mixed messages to the citizenry…"

"So, you're conceding now that there is, in fact, a threat?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Headmistress. "I think you're getting hard of hearing in your age, Minerva. I never said they were not a threat. I said I would not entertain rumors of rallies and organization. I only accommodate concrete facts."

Minerva pursed her lips. "You know these releases had little to do with Harry or even Kingsley, Severus. It's the bureaucracy of the Ministry—supposed budget cuts—that is causing this. Harry and Hermione Weasley are doing everything in their power to lobby against it."

Severus waved his hand indifferently. "Keep me informed, if you must, but this is not the matter I came to see you about."

"Oh?" Minerva asked. "What is it?"

"I have reason to believe that Zoe is being bullied," he stated plainly.

That certainly got her attention. She looked at him, concern etched on her face.

"By whom?"

Severus shook his head. "I'm not sure."

Minerva wrinkled her brow. "Then what made you come to this conclusion?"

"She had her wand taken from her. I'm not sure when, though I believe that she went through all her lessons today without it."

Minerva took off her reading glasses and rubbed at her forehead.

"In the last decade, the Heads and I have worked to try to keep bullying at bay, educating students on the dangers of it and administering rather severe consequences to those that participate in it. However, it's been largely on the shoulders of the Heads of Houses to implement policies of enforcement, to arm susceptible students with the knowledge to counteract bullies smartly."

"So, _when_ I discover who is behind this, I can expect to have a reasonable amount of satisfaction in seeing them expelled?"

Minerva pursed her lips and gave herself a moment of silence before addressing his question. "These situations are assessed on an individual basis—and in as unbiased a way as possible. Just because you and I feel very strongly about the victim in this case does not mean we should lose our heads. We will not condemn without all the evidence."

Severus merely sneered at that, but did not comment. He had little patience for sensibility at this point. He just wanted to see justice served.

The Headmistress shook her head. "I never would have imagined that Zoe would become a target; she's so affable and open, kind."

"She's intelligent. That's apparently reason enough," Severus said with disdain. "Zoe is being targeted for her studiousness."

"She isn't _that_ studious, Severus."

Severus shook his head. "It's my childhood all over again."

"No, it's not," Minerva stated. "Zoe has a father who loves her and wishes to protect her. That's much more than you could say for your childhood."

The Headmistress let that statement sink in for a moment, allowing Severus his brooding for only that long.

"What did you do about her wand?" she asked. "Has it been returned to her?"

Severus nodded once. "I summoned it. Then I taught her the spell that will return it to her pocket should it be lost or stolen."

"That's a good one to know."

"I should have taught her it the minute she received her wand…"

"Well, she knows it now. Do you fear that her wand has changed allegiance in all this?"

This was the part that frustrated Severus the most. He just didn't _know_. If Zoe's wand had been taken from her forcefully, she could very well have lost its loyalty, especially considering the temperament of the core. However, if she had somehow been coaxed into handing it over, she would still stand a chance of keeping it.

"Of course, I fear it. But the girl's being exceptionally tight-lipped about her encounter. She won't talk to me."

"Well, there must be something that is keeping her quiet. I can't imagine she'd keep it from you otherwise. I think with some patience, you could get it out of her, though. In the meantime, I think you need to have a conversation with the students in your house regarding bullying."

The Headmistress's words were something of a command and Severus stood, resolved to do just that within the coming week.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Whew! If you are reading this, then you managed to get through all that above. Or, you know, you just skipped to the bottom of the page...<em>**

**_Anyway, did you like anything about all those words up there? Did you hate any of it? Either way, let me know! Reviews are what makes the world go 'round! You wouldn't want the world to STOP, would you?_**


	14. Correcting Assumptions

**_I know, I know. It's been months since I last posted, but I've sort of, kind of, started another job (bringing my grand total to three) and the time to write has been limited. I hope the wait hasn't been excruciating for you, though._  
><strong>

**_So, without further ado, chapter 14._**

**_Enjoy._**

* * *

><p><strong>Correcting Assumptions<strong>

Two days went by before Zoe was able to get a message to James asking if she could meet him to get her book back. Aside from being curious as to if he had managed to get back to Gryffindor Tower that night without further complications, she also really wanted to read her book.

Zoe had requested that he meet her up on the Astronomy Tower again, but just after dinner so that there wouldn't be any risk that they would be out after curfew. He had showed up earlier than their designated time and come to sit beside her at the edge of the ramparts, looking out onto the grounds.

"Here," James said, pulling _Cleo Callisto and the Fate of the Realm_ from his rucksack and handing it to her. "I'll have you know I got a lot of grief from my mates for holding on to that for you."

"Why?" Zoe asked, wrinkling her brow. "It's just a book."

"It's a _girly_ book."

"Well, I'm a girl. I like it. Besides, would you have rather had detention with my father again?"

James merely shrugged at that. "Well, _Cleo Callisto_'s all right, I guess, as far as girl heroes go, but I think the _Felix Rapp_ series is better."

"You've read _Felix Rapp_?" Zoe asked, surprised.

"_You've_ read _Felix Rapp_?" James countered, equally amazed.

"Well, yeah, of course. Minerv— I mean, Professor McGonagall has always made sure that I have fiction to read. Papa has a lot of books, but there aren't many that are for kids or that are good to read just for fun. I read all four _Felix_ books last summer. I liked them."

James nodded his understanding. "You don't have to pretend, you know. Professor McGonagall is a friend of my family. When no one else is around, I call her Minerva, too, just like Professor Lupin is Remus to me."

Zoe nodded her own understanding then, surprisingly relieved that she had one person that she didn't have to hide her secret from. "So…," Zoe started. "Did you run into any other teachers the other night?"

"No," James said, "I got back all right. What about you? Did you get detention?"

Zoe shook her head. "No. He just told me to stay in my dormitory after curfew and to write to him in the morning if I have a nightmare… Then he asked what I wanted for Christmas."

"Write to him? Professor Snape told you to write to him in the morning if you have a bad dream and then turned around and asked you what you wanted for Christmas?" James asked in disbelief. He looked out onto the grounds. "He sure is different… at least around you. I mean, he's like a completely different person than we see in class."

Zoe rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm his daughter," she retorted, thinking that should have been obvious. "I don't really know why he's so…mean at school. I've tried to get him to stop but it just gets me in trouble."

James looked over at her, curious. "Are you the Slytherin first year that keeps mouthing off to him in class?"

Zoe stared. Again, that should have been obvious.

"Huh," James said, looking away. "I guess it kind of makes sense if you think about it, but I never would have pegged you as the kind to back chat a teacher."

Zoe shrugged. "I'm only like that with him. Papa would go spare if I was disrespectful to any other teacher. Besides, he was never like that when he was just teaching me. I mean, he's always rather strict but it's strange to see him so awful to other students. He says that I undermine his authority when I'm cheeky to him in class. He gave me detention twice and sent me to Minerva's office. Now I just leave him notes in my essays, but it hasn't really stopped him yet. We talked, though, so maybe things will change."

James snorted, not really sounding that amused. "I'm sure I'll still be the 'intolerable Mr. Potter' to him—'just like my father'…" He seemed slightly upset, but he shrugged. "At least your nerve in class has been a good bit of talk around Hogwarts… What do you think he's getting you for Christmas?"

Zoe shrugged. "He said he wouldn't get me a broom, so I don't know."

"That's a drag," James said. Then he was quiet for several moments, looking out onto the grounds. Eventually, he turned his head back to her. "So, what's it like having him as your dad? Is it weird?"

Zoe shook her head. "No. Why would it be weird?"

James shrugged. "I don't know. I just grew up hearing things about him. I think it'd be strange to have him as a father."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, curious. "He's just…my father. Normal. I don't know what you've heard but he can't be too much different than your father or anyone else's."

James snorted. "I bet he's loads different than my dad."

"How?" Zoe asked, skeptical.

"Well," James started, looking up, thinking. "My dad laughs _all_ the time. No offense, but Professor Snape doesn't seem to have much of a sense of humor. I've never seen him even smile, much less laugh."

"He laughs," Zoe defended lamely. "And he makes jokes sometimes. Just because he doesn't with most people doesn't mean he doesn't at all."

"I suppose so," James said. "Anyway, my dad taught me how to play Quidditch when I was little. Did yours teach you?"

"No. But I already said that I don't follow Quidditch."

"You might have if he'd taught you," James said.

Zoe frowned. She'd never really thought about it that way. Perhaps, if her father _had_ exposed her to the sport at some point, she'd be just as mad about it as everyone else in school seemed to be. She couldn't imagine sitting at home listening to matches on the Wireless as John and his father and brothers did, though. Then again, she rather enjoyed and relished the quiet nights she had with her father, reading, sometimes talking, or that one time when he taught her how to play chess. Was that not something other children did with their fathers?

"I don't think that he not teaching me about Quidditch makes him that much different than anyone else's fathers," Zoe defended logically. "I mean, I have to do my homework and go to bed when he asks me to and do chores and stuff just like everyone else."

James grinned. "Yeah, I don't think that's too different than anybody's parents. But what makes him as normal as my dad?"

"Why do you want to know?" Zoe asked, suddenly finding this conversation a bit odd.

James shrugged. "Like I said, I've just heard stories about him when I was growing up... I'm curious. Besides, everyone thinks he just brews potions all day and lives in darkness."

Zoe didn't feel she could argue with his curiosity, though she was interested in what stories James had heard about her father. She'd been hearing stories about James's father as well. Perhaps, if she told a bit, he would impart some information as well.

"Well, we don't live in darkness. That's just silly. Our house is really bright, actually. Ollie makes sure the curtains are always open during the day, even if it's raining out."

"Who's Ollie?"

"Our house elf. She's a free elf who came from Hogwarts to help Papa when I was a baby and she just always stayed."

James nodded. "So she does all the cooking and cleaning?"

"Most of it. But I have to do some chores, unfortunately. And she takes days off too and then Papa cooks instead."

"Whoa! Wait. Snape cooks?"

Zoe smiled and nodded.

"Is it any good?"

Zoe giggled. "It depends on what he cooks. His omelets are really good and his beef stew. But, one time, he _did_ burn a lasagna… er, don't tell him I told you that."

James had the most gobsmacked look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Zoe asked after he'd remained quiet for longer than she had expected. James shook his head.

"Nothing. I just never figured Snape would be _that_ normal."

"_Professor_ Snape. And I told you he was."

James shook his head. "Sorry, I just can't imagine him cooking. Even after you told me that he did."

"Well, we have to eat," Zoe said, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I guess you do."

There was a long, rather awkward silence then. As it drew to nearly a minute, James spoke again.

"So, er, do you have plans for the holidays?"

Zoe shrugged. "I don't think so. Papa hasn't told me anything, anyway. We'll probably just go home; it may be a bit boring, actually."

James nodded. "Anyway, I should probably go. Louis wanted to talk about the Harpies and Tornadoes match tonight."

"All right… Thanks for holding onto my book for me," Zoe said, rising from the floor at the same time that James did.

"Thanks for keeping me out of detention. See you later!"

And with that, he turned and left, leaving Zoe a bit annoyed. She was disappointed that she didn't get a chance to reciprocate their conversation with questions about Mr. Potter and she had a nagging feeling that James had intended it that way.

/

Severus had stewed and worried about Zoe over the days following her wand being stolen. Though he knew she had left his office that day much more prepared than before, he still felt absolutely helpless while he knew so little of what was taking place within his own house.

The truth of the matter was that before, when Severus had been the Head of Slytherin, there hadn't been a lot of emphasis regarding students bullying others. At that time, there had been a very delicate political and social balance that had to be taken into account in every situation. Any time he'd caught wind of nefarious goings-on within the dormitory, he'd had to spend time hashing out exactly how to deal with the guilty party and the victim without causing too much of a stir regarding the specific magical family as well as not give his allegiance away to one side or another. Then, he'd typically kept his mantras to 'pick on those who are your own size' and 'what your Head of House doesn't know will have no ill effects upon the perpetrator'. The ability to carry out tasks relatively covertly was rather an unspoken Slytherin trait anyway, so he'd been able to play into that mindset in his students. Not to mention that during the war, Slytherins were much more likely to prey on members of other houses, which would sometimes take the burden of disciplining perpetrators out of his hands entirely, leaving them to the whims of one of the other Heads.

Those times, however, were long past and things were going to have to change. Aside from the fact that he never believed those principles back then and most certainly didn't at present, he now had a daughter within Slytherin to think about. The political climate was no longer a delicate matter, not to mention the fact that Zoe had made it quite clear to him that she wanted him to change his own bullying tendencies, to become a calmer, more understanding teacher. And for whatever reason, he wanted to do that for her—as best as he could.

This was why he had instructed her in how to retrieve her wand magically, should it be taken from her, rather than teach her the series of hexes his mother had taught him when he'd been faced with childhood bullies. He felt that had been the better parental approach to take, for teaching his daughter to throw malicious hexes only seemed to be fighting fire with fire—a philosophy he may have taken a very different view of before Zoe was born.

Now, he wanted disagreements to be resolved peacefully and for his daughter to understand that there was no admiration to be had for witches and wizards who entered into a fray with little thought of the consequences or for schoolyard bullies who took their frustrations out on those who were different, smaller, or weaker.

It was with that thought that Severus realized that he was with Minerva and the other heads on this issue. Bullying for whatever reason needed to stop and if it was going on in the House of Slytherin, as it seemed to be, then the Slytherins were in for a bit of a wakeup call.

But how should he go about bringing it up without somehow implicating his own daughter? For he was certain that were he to make a blanket statement, her adversaries would only get it into their heads that she had snitched and that would not make anything easier.

On the one hand, Severus could most certainly see the merit of doing so for it indeed would give the bullies reason to strike at their victim, thus making it much easier to catch them in the act. However, to say that he was wary of using his own daughter as bait was more than an understatement. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it; therefore, he would have to wait for an opportunity to present itself.

What he didn't expect was for the opportunity to present itself that one afternoon following his last class of the day, just one week after Zoe's wand had been stolen and subsequently returned to her.

He had been annoyed by his schedule of late for he'd been unable to get any free time to watch over his daughter and try to sniff out her bully or bullies, what with all the classes, grading, staff meetings, and a rigorous brewing list to be getting on with.

He therefore found himself taking out his frustrations on his N.E.W.T. students' essays; he was nearly through grading them and not one student had received higher than an A. He'd resolved himself to taking a break when there was a soft knock at his office door.

Perplexed, he laid his quill down, set his blood-red ink aside, and called out to the visitor.

"Enter."

Slowly, the door opened and Lottie Wickham stepped into the room, a look of combined apprehension and resolve upon her face.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she said politely.

"Miss Wickham," Severus acknowledged.

"Would it be okay if I, er, had a few minutes of your time?"

He inclined his head in the affirmative and held his hand out toward one of the chairs across the desk from him. "Please, sit down."

Severus pushed the remaining essays to the edge of his desk in order to give the black-haired, impeccably-postured girl before him his full attention.

Despite knowing that Lottie Wickham had quickly become Zoe's best friend, Severus hadn't really taken the time to observe the girl or get to know her. He knew, of course, of her Muggle family, that she was the daughter of an earl and of the fact that she was rarely outspoken in class, but when asked, nearly always answered questions correctly. Her overall personality, however, he knew little about aside from what Zoe had told him. Lottie didn't have many friends within Slytherin House—or within the school for that matter—not because she wouldn't be well liked, but because she preferred a smaller group of trusting people around her. Severus supposed this had much to do with her family, who seemed to be in the Muggle media often—whether due to their high status within society or because a cloud of scandal surrounded them, he was unsure.

Once the girl had sat before him and nervously settled her robes about her, she looked up directly into his eyes and before he could even ask her what had brought her there that day, she spoke.

"I know that you're Zoe's father," she said, to-the-point.

Severus did his best to keep his facial features neutral—despite his utter astonishment—as the girl continued.

"I know that you've been trying to keep it a secret and Zoe works really hard not to let anything slip but, I know anyway."

Severus arched a single eyebrow at the girl, making her squirm just as Zoe would, as she anticipated his reaction to this rather brazen revelation. He sat forward in his chair and brought his hands in front of him, intertwining his fingers.

"And how is it that you came to this conclusion, Miss Wickham?" he asked.

The girl gave a weak smile and fidgeted a bit. "It was kind of obvious. Zoe becomes really… quiet, I suppose, when people say that they don't like you, but her eyes light up when she talks about something you said or a subject we're going to cover in Defense. The same way she does when she talks about her father. Mostly, though, it's the way you reacted to her in class that day you sent her to Professor McGonagall. You took her in the corridor to speak with her and didn't shout so everyone could hear like you do with other students. I knew something was strange."

"You knew something was strange, but you have yet to explain how you knew for sure," Severus stated.

Lottie Wickham had the audacity to grin. "You have the same eyes. Zoe's always go black when she's upset by something someone has said about you and then yours and hers are just alike."

Severus narrowed the aforementioned eyes at the first year. Though the links the girl had made were more intuitive assertions than concrete evidence of his and Zoe's relationship, he was able to determine that she wasn't somehow trying to deceive him and was, in fact, trustworthy—and very sure of herself. She was almost Granger-like in her mannerisms, in fact.

As the possible implications of this first year knowing their secret flooded Severus's mind, they were overshadowed by a strong thought that, perhaps, it would be beneficial for Zoe to have someone she could confide in completely. And perhaps Lottie Wickham was just the person. Really, he had no reason to dislike her. She was a good student, kind, patient—overall, he didn't think her to be a poor influence on his daughter.

Resolved, he took a deep breath and addressed the girl.

"Excellent deductive reasoning, Miss Wickham. It would seem that you have found us out. I trust that you will keep this information to yourself and use discretion when speaking with Zoe?"

"Yes, Professor. I wouldn't tell anyone unless you said it was all right."

Severus inclined his head. "Is this the only matter you wished to discuss with me this afternoon?"

The girl became a bit subdued then. "Er… no, sir. There's something else that I think you should know."

"Go on," Severus encouraged dryly.

After that, it was hard to get her to stop talking as she expounded weeks' worth of information to him regarding her and Zoe's life within their house. Apparently, certain students were of the impression that Zoe was a Muggleborn due to her insistence not to tell them her true parentage and he listened raptly as Lottie spoke of a specific incident that took place in a bathroom just the week prior.

"…so Celeste took Zoe's wand and left with the other girls. But Zoe got her wand back that night, because she used it to practice for Transfiguration with me. I don't really know how she got it back because she wouldn't tell me, but it still wasn't right that Celeste took it and—"

Severus held up a hand, immediately halting the girl's speech. "I am aware that her wand was taken, but I have been unable to ascertain who had taken it. I summoned it and returned it to her after your Defense class that day."

Lottie nodded and sat back in her chair, seemingly relieved to have finally gotten all this off her chest.

"Is there anything more?" Severus asked softly then.

"No, I think that's everything—at least everything I've seen or that Zoe has told me about."

Severus nodded and stood; Lottie followed suit.

"Thank you for this information, Miss Wickham," he said, a resolve in his tone. "I ask that you find our Head Boy, Mr. Andersen, and send him to me as soon as possible. I need to have a word with him."

The Wickham girl had a curious expression on her face, but didn't ask what he wanted to see the Head Boy about. "I will, Professor. I saw him in the common room before I came here. I'll let him know you want to talk with him."

Severus gave her a single nod and as she turned to leave, he addressed her again.

"I feel I should…apologize… for the deplorable way you have been treated in your short time here. I assure you, the attitudes and behaviors of a few within your house and the greater wizarding world toward Muggleborns is an old prejudice and does not reflect the mindset of the majority. I regret that I have been inexcusably complacent in regards to curbing these discriminatory activities in my House. I assure you, this will be dealt with—almost this moment."

"Thanks, Professor. It's all right," Lottie said. "Zoe always seems to come in and take their attention off me. She's a really good friend."

Severus couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he merely gave a curt nod of his head.

As the first year left, closing the door behind her, Severus imagined she was quite unaware of the state of combined boiling rage and overwhelming pride in which she'd left her Head of House. Without any doubt, justice for Zoe—and Lottie—would be served that day.

/

Zoe had been a bit perplexed to hear that she was to be in her common room directly after dinner that night. During her meal, Lukas Andersen and the Slytherin prefects had walked along the table informing everyone that attendance to a house-wide meeting was mandatory, that Professor Snape himself had something urgent he needed to speak with everyone about. She had heard grumbling from a fair few people who had made plans for studying or activities between dinner and curfew, but they had been promptly informed to cancel their arrangements, for skiving or even tardiness would be rewarded with a week of detention.

Zoe had had to walk to the Ravenclaw table to inform Caroline and John that they were going to have to practice for Charms later in the week. They hadn't been upset, but had been nearly as curious as she was as to what the urgency was.

So, it was with that same curiosity that Zoe stood in the full common room waiting for the entrance of their Head of House. Prefects had taken a quick attendance, making sure that every Slytherin in Hogwarts was present before standing at the steps leading up to the entrance and waiting with everyone else. It was not long after that the door opened and Zoe's father swept in, his black robes billowing behind him. He looked immediately to Lukas who came forward as a hush fell over the common room.

"Everyone is here and accounted for, Professor," Lukas said, taking a step forward.

Zoe watched her father incline his head in acknowledgement. He turned and took several moments simply looking at the assembled students, looking some directly in the eye. His eyes found her own for a brief moment before they raked over a group to her right sitting very near the large fireplace. It was Celeste Aaron's typical clique consisting of Julia Ellsworth and Evangeline Selwyn as well as Cecilia, Persimmon, and Abigail. Simon Wolfe and Michael Pickering lingered nearby; they were not necessarily a part of the group, but were close enough in proximity to converse with the girls, if they chose.

Her father took a step forward, but did not descend the stairs. Zoe imagined the height difference between him and the students only reinforced the intimidation factor he was undoubtedly going for. He had that look in his eye as he did when one of his suppliers had backed out of an agreement; it was as if he had been personally wronged and wanted to convey wordlessly that he would not stand for it. This urgent business couldn't be anything good…

"It has come to my attention that certain members of Slytherin House have fallen prey to what can only be categorized as cowardly harassment—both physically and mentally—by their peers," he started, sternly eyeing everyone, his voice so low that Zoe was certain that those in the back of the common room were straining just to hear him.

"Though many of your minds may rush to judgment on whom the possible culprits could be, I will begin by pointing out that, in this case, the persecution and belittlement has been invoked not by Gryffindors or bold members of another house. No, the perpetrators are none other than elder members of this very house," the professor said, getting right to the point.

The students assembled before him started looking around at each other and murmuring their theories. Zoe couldn't help that her eyes shifted to the group consisting of her own tormenters. They were whispering among themselves but when Celeste noticed Zoe looking at her, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously and elbowed her sister. Cecilia also turned to narrow her eyes at Zoe who quickly looked back up to her father and moved a bit closer to Lottie.

"Quiet," her father said and the common room instantly went silent once again. He turned his head to look to his left where the prefects had situated themselves. "Mr. Andersen."

Lukas looked up at his Head of House and came forward within the crowd. "Yes, sir?"

"Would you care to inform your housemates of the Hogwarts policy regarding bullying within these halls?"

Lukas nodded his head once and cleared his throat. "Hogwarts School has a very strict anti-bullying code, which was enacted in Professor McGonagall's first year as Headmistress. Any student found to be bullying another student could face a number of disciplinary actions ranging from detentions or a loss of privileges to expulsion, depending on the severity and known frequency of the infractions."

Professor Snape gave a curt nod to that and turned back to the room at large, but eventually, his gaze seemed to narrow in on Celeste Aaron. Zoe glanced over briefly only to see that Celeste was picking at her fingernails as if uninterested. Zoe's eyes moved quickly back to her father only to see his expression steely in reaction to the fifth year's perceived indifference to the subject.

"Mr. Andersen," her father said once again, not looking at the Head boy, but raising his voice slightly as whispers began to erupt in the awkward silence that had followed Lukas's explanation.

"Yes, Professor Snape?"

"Would you now be so kind as to explain the policy at Hogwarts regarding the theft of another's wand?"

There was utter silence then as everyone's attention turned first to their Head of House and then almost instantly to the Head Boy, who wore an expression of utter surprise and disgust.

"Sir?" Lukas asked, apparently unsure of what he was being asked.

"The policy, Mr. Andersen," Zoe's father said with an air of annoyance. "What is this school's policy on wand theft?"

"Er… there isn't one, sir. I mean…not technically. It… it just isn't done. You don't simply take another witch or wizard's wand, unless it's in a duel—a life or death situation. Dueling isn't allowed, though—there's a whole section on its unacceptability in the rulebook. Unless, of course it's in Dueling Club meetings and then, it's presumed that the wands understand that it's practice and…"

Zoe could tell that her father was definitely controlling his fury carefully now as Lukas rambled on. His eyes still rested toward the group of girls near Zoe; their eyes, on the other hand, were anywhere but on him. Celeste had a steely stare of her own, however, which she directed at Zoe briefly when not pretending she was bored. Her sister, Persimmon, and Abigail looked at the stone floor.

Zoe's father turned to Lukas then.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Andersen," he said, finally. "Tell me, why do you believe there is no policy regarding wand theft?"

Lukas's jaw absolutely dropped, even more flabbergasted than a moment ago.

"Because it's like I said, sir: it just isn't done. It's offensive, an _insult_. A huge one. It reaches far beyond that of common bullying to rattle the core of magical tradition and wandlore. Not that bullying is acceptable, of course, but… well, wand theft just isn't right, especially if it is, as you say, an elder student who has taken a younger student's wand. I don't think the Hogwarts founders or any subsequent Headmaster or Headmistress would have anticipated that such a situation was probable much less write it into the school rules."

"Indeed," the professor said.

He was silent again, taking his eyes off Celeste so that he could rake them over the room again. Finally, he slowly descended the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back as he did so. Students at the foot of the steps took several strides back to give their Head some space.

Once on an even level with the majority of the Slytherins, Zoe watched as her father began walking amongst the crowd, a sufficient aisle clearing for him as he walked.

"I am aware that this house carries with it a certain stigma due to past events—past students," he began. "But I will not continue to allow Slytherin House to be associated with all that is evil and wrong in our world."

He paused in speech and stride. Zoe could see that he was weighing his words and thoughts carefully. He began to walk slowly once more.

"Putting aside whatever sordid history this house may possess, our most valued members have not been common bullies, prejudiced, or proponents of Dark activities. They have been witches and wizards of honor and justice. They have been inventors and academics, Headmasters, Aurors, great Healers, and Ministers for Magic—people who understand that cowardice and cruelty do not reflect merely upon the individual, but upon this house and all its fellows."

He turned then to continue around the outside perimeter of the students, near the large, lake window.

"If you take one thing from your time in Slytherin, know this: our ambition does not mean we must be apathetic to the plights of others. Our cunning does not counteract our compassion. Our resourcefulness does not mean we prey upon those who are weaker or less affluent in order to achieve our ends—quite the opposite. We use our respective qualities as Slytherins to make our world better."

There was a mean snort of amusement at his last statement. As all heads turned in the direction of the noise, Zoe imagined that it had really just been bad timing on Celeste's part, having laughed just as the professor had paused in his speech, for the girl looked shocked to have so much attention directed her way. It only lasted a moment, however, before a haughty expression took over her features.

Zoe, for her part, tried not to draw attention to herself as her father took a few slow steps toward the group of girls to her right owing to the fact that, after his questions about wand theft, she was certain her father had found out exactly who had taken Zoe's wand. How he had obtained this information, she could only guess. But then again, her father always seemed to know everything.

"Something you wish to say, Miss Aaron?" he drawled from where he had stopped, not ten feet from the fifth year. Though he was keeping his face relatively emotionless, Zoe could see the fury in his eyes. His impending conversation with Celeste was likely to be very calculated.

Through her eyelashes, Zoe saw Celeste shrug one of her shoulders.

"No," the girl said simply.

Zoe's father arched a single eyebrow. "So, then, you are in agreement that bullies and wand thieves should be dealt with severely here at Hogwarts in order to uphold morality, decency, and integrity within the school?"

Again, Celeste shrugged. "Whatever."

Zoe's eyes widened, though she was looking at her shoes at this point. _That_ wasn't going to sit well with her father at all. He hated the indifference of that word so much that he had forbidden Zoe to say it long ago.

"_Whatever_, indeed," he growled, folding his arms over his chest. He glared at Celeste for several moments. Zoe had to hand it to the older girl, she held his stare the whole time, long after Zoe would have looked away and her father was definitely much angrier now than Zoe had seen him anytime she had been in trouble.

"Do you find this situation amusing, perhaps, since you felt the urge to laugh about it just a few moments ago?"

Celeste Aaron had the audacity to roll her eyes. "I find it _amusing_ that _you_, of all people, would lecture _us_ on the demerits of bullying and Dark activities."

Students gasped and Zoe's head suddenly shot up as she looked to her father for his reaction. Still, his face remained impassive, his eyebrow still raised. Suddenly, an almost indistinguishable smirk formed on his lips and Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"We are not discussing me, Miss Aaron. However, you may be interested to know that I have been…persuaded to turn a new leaf."

Her father addressed the room at large once more.

"By a show of hands, who among you feel you have been personally victimized by Celeste Aaron?" he asked.

At first, everyone just looked around at each other, not wanting to incriminate themselves or their friends. Zoe was among those eyeing her classmates, but refusing to lift her hand. After all, her father knew of her circumstances—he'd just talked about them—so there was no need to raise her hand, really.

However, Zoe was astounded when, beside her, Lottie slowly, but bravely lifted her hand into the air. After that, it was as if a gate of self-confidence had been opened as other students also raised their hands, some apprehensively, others boldly, staring the fifth year down as they did so. Just from a rough estimation, Zoe figured nearly twenty other students, perhaps two dozen, had their hands raised. Suddenly bolstered, and after an encouraging look from Lottie, Zoe finally put her hand in the air, though perhaps not as high as others around her.

Her father's eyes were on Celeste still as Celeste looked around her, rage becoming evident in her facial expression.

"Just because they said I did, doesn't mean that I did," she stated.

"I disagree," the professor said, taking slow, menacing steps toward the girl. "I have the testimony of at least one student who can attest to your bullying firsthand as well as numerous documents obtained from Mr. Andersen—written accounts from various students claiming to have had issues with you in the past. These allegations include instances ranging from name-calling to holding other students at wandpoint and threatening them. And, of course, there is the eyewitness account that you held a first year to a bathroom floor and proceeded to threaten her until she gave you her wand."

Various students gasped again, but Zoe barely registered it for Celeste's steely gaze had turned upon her and Lottie instantly.

"Professor, whatever you heard, she's lying," Cecilia suddenly piped up in defense of her sister.

"_Shut_ _it_, _Cecilia_," Celeste hissed, but the damage had been done.

The professor's eyes shifted angrily to the younger girl, though there was slight triumph in them as well. "Who is 'she', Miss Aaron?"

"I— er, I mean 'they'. They are lying."

There was a moment of silence and then her father took a final step toward the girls, towering over them authoritatively.

"My office, the both of you. _Now_," he said in a menacingly low tone to the fifth year and her younger sister.

Celeste wrinkled her nose in disgust, but walked toward the exit without a word. Cecilia, however, looked apprehensively up at her Head of House before rushing away from him. Zoe saw her run up and try to hold her sister's hand, but was unceremoniously shoved away, unforgiven for her slip up.

When the two girls had exited, Zoe's father addressed the room for a final time, cutting off the chatter that had erupted at Cecilia's implication.

"I am not so blind as to believe that there aren't those here who knew of or played witness to these atrocities and chose silence. If that is the case, you know who you are and you should be ashamed of yourselves. I will say it again: we will not be a house of bullies and tormenters, but one of character. A house of integrity. And, if I have to place every last one of you on restriction of your non-academic privileges in order to make it clear that this behavior—and the refusal to report it—will not be tolerated, I will do it. Mark my words. That includes Quidditch. I intend to disavow all of you of any lingering notion that sitting idly by as those younger or weaker are humiliated or hurt is acceptable. It is disgraceful.

"We are Slytherins. We may be self-serving, but our history has made us outcasts among the supposedly nobler houses. For this reason, we must stand by each other."

Her father turned to direct his attention to her then.

"Miss Agnew, Miss Wickham, please come with me," he said, turning to walk toward the exit of the common room. "The rest of you get back to your studies," he spat out to the still staring room.

As Zoe and Lottie quickly moved to follow their professor, talking broke out amongst the other students. No doubt, people would be talking about this for several days.

Zoe's father walked quickly ahead, making Zoe and Lottie almost have to jog to keep up with him as he ascended stairs and strode through corridors. It wasn't long before they had crossed the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and he pushed the door open, allowing the girls to precede him into the room. As they did, Zoe spotted Cecilia sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. It looked like she had been crying. Celeste, it appeared, had been scowling disdainfully out the window until their entrance.

Zoe jumped when her father slammed his office door shut and strode past the girls to stand behind his desk.

"Front and center," he commanded.

Figuring he was literally calling the Aarons onto the carpet, but not knowing for sure, Zoe walked forward to stand in a line between Lottie and Celeste. Cecilia vacated her chair to stand on her sister's opposite side. They all looked into the livid face of their professor.

He took no pause before issuing his edict.

"Celeste Aaron. You are hereby suspended from Hogwarts School for the duration of this academic year."

Zoe's jaw dropped.

"You can't do that! Only the Headmistress can suspend students!" Celeste said indignantly.

Zoe watched her father's eyes narrow dangerously at the impertinent fifth year. He placed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward onto them, bringing himself closer to all of the girls standing before him, but focusing his attention solely on the eldest.

"The Headmistress puts much trust in her Heads of House, seriously weighing their recommendations for consequences and I can assure you, Miss Aaron, I have substantial sway in this regard. The theft of a wand is one of the most sordid, nefarious infractions to be committed within these walls. Consider yourself lucky you aren't being expelled."

The professor's eyes moved from Celeste to Cecilia then. Zoe sensed her roommate shuddering in fear, even two places away.

"Cecilia Aaron," he said lowly. "For your aid in these unbecoming cruelties, you are hereby suspended through the duration of the current term. With much reflection over your extended holiday, I hope that you obtain some modicum of decency becoming a Slytherin and learn to treat others better in the next term."

Zoe's father resumed his standing posture then, looking down on the Aarons with authority.

"Now, the both of you go straight back to your dormitory and pack your trunks. Your parents will be informed immediately and will come to collect you before the day is out. You are not to leave Slytherin House until you are called for by Headmistress McGonagall. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Cecilia said quickly, looking at her shoes.

However, Celeste was going to be much more obstinate, it seemed. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she glared at the man across from her.

"Miss Aaron, need I remind you that you are a hair's breadth away from expulsion?" Zoe's father asked in warning. "I suggest that you address and obey my order."

The fifth year's eyes blazed in fury, but she finally gave him the confirmation he expected. "_Yes_, Professor Snape. As you _wish_," Celeste finally ground out defiantly.

The professor's eyes narrowed again, but he didn't comment on her cheek. He merely flicked his wand toward his office door, opening it.

"You two are dismissed," he said.

The Aaron girls were completely silent as they left. As soon as they were out of the office, Zoe's father used his wand once again to close the door before turning serious eyes upon Zoe and Lottie. He was silent for several moments, looking between the two of them, causing them to squirm. Finally, his eyes settled on Lottie.

"Miss Wickham. You have exercised exceptional perseverance in the face of bullies and shown yourself to be a dedicated ally and... friend. You are truly worthy of the House of Slytherin. I commend your bravery for bringing all this to my attention and therefore award you thirty points."

Lottie. Zoe should have known her friend would be the one to say something. The girl was righteous and much braver than Zoe was.

"Thank you, Professor," Lottie said meekly, bashful at being praised so openly by the one professor who rarely praises.

Zoe's father inclined his head. "You will also be granted a room reassignment. Pack your trunk. You will be swapping places with Cecilia Aaron."

Lottie and Zoe looked at each other, huge grins forming on their faces.

Zoe looked back to her father.

"You mean, I don't have to live with Cecilia anymore?"

"Yes, it would indeed seem that you've been given a much-needed reprieve from the charms of Cecilia Aaron. I'm assuming the two of you will be amenable to each other's company?"

"Yes!" Zoe and Lottie chorused excitedly.

Zoe's father nodded.

"In that case, Miss Wickham, would you mind giving my daughter and me a few minutes of privacy?"

"Of course not, Professor," Lottie said, giving Zoe a kind smile and ignoring her friend's wide, questioning eyes.

"You know?" Zoe asked Lottie. She turned to her father. "And you know that she knows?"

"Yes," was all her father said. Lottie merely continued smiling at Zoe as she left, closing the door behind her.

Zoe turned back to her father, a flabbergasted look on her face, as he collapsed into his chair with a heavy sigh. He gave his daughter a rather exasperated look and then crooked his index finger toward her to signal her to come to him.

Zoe bit her lip, suddenly apprehensive. She knew she wasn't in trouble, of course, but she also knew that her father must be a bit annoyed with her over this whole ordeal.

Slowly, she rounded the desk and came to stand at her father's side. He gazed at her from his seat, only slightly below her standing eye level.

"Why didn't you tell me that the Aarons were making you miserable for months?"

Zoe leaned her hip into her father's desk and looked away. At the time, she had kept it from him—from all her teachers—because she had been embarrassed about being on the receiving end of bullying and she had thought that by being a snitch, she would only make things worse. But now, she felt even more ashamed that she hadn't told him; that Lottie had ultimately been the one with enough courage to explain what was going on.

"I guess I was scared," she told him after several moments of contemplation into her own actions.

"Why?" her father asked.

Zoe looked up at him. "Celeste threatened Lottie and me. She said she'd hex Lottie with antlers and that she'd snap my wand in half if we told any teachers or prefects."

Her father had an angry frown on his face now, though Zoe knew it wasn't directed at her.

"And what about after you had gotten your wand back? Why didn't you say anything then?"

"She still would have hexed Lottie—and probably me, too."

Her father rolled his eyes.

"First, knowing the magical aptitude of this particular student, I highly doubt that she would be capable of following through with any such threat. And second, even if she did manage the curse, do you not trust either my or Madam Pomfrey's abilities to put you to rights?"

"No, I do," Zoe said, feeling even more ashamed.

"Then perhaps next time, we forego the months of secrecy and you just come tell me if you are having a problem with bullies, hmm?"

"I will, Papa."

Her father gave a curt nod and sat forward in his chair, looking at Zoe seriously.

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened when you lost possession of your wand a week ago."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. She didn't understand why that was so important. It had been taken from her and now she had it back.

"You said that you had misplaced it then I later suspected that it had been taken from you and you didn't deny it. Now, it is known that Celeste Aaron stole it," her father continued, elaborating. "It is absolutely essential that I know how it was taken from you."

"Why?" Zoe asked curiously.

Her father huffed in irritation. He always did that when he was impatient to hear an explanation and it was not immediately forthcoming.

"Because wands can change allegiances. It is not a very well-known fact, but a wand that is forcefully taken from a witch or wizard in a magical duel or Muggle-like brawl may…_decide_…that its original owner is not worthy to possess it and it will change its loyalty."

"What?!" Zoe said, her eyes wide, as she pulled her wand from her robes to examine it, as if there would be some outward sign that it no longer showed allegiance to her.

"Did Miss Aaron disarm you with a spell?" her father asked, his tone very impatient now. "Or perhaps force it from your hand bodily?"

Zoe looked into his eyes and shook her head. "No. She said she wouldn't hurt Lottie if I just gave it to her, so I did."

"You handed your wand to another witch knowing that she meant you harm?"

Now he seemed a bit angry and Zoe suddenly felt like she was in trouble. She looked to the floor and shuffled her feet.

"She gave me her word that she wouldn't hurt Lottie. Wizard's Oath," she mumbled.

"And what of your own safety?" he asked tersely.

Zoe thought for a moment. It hadn't occurred to her at the time to ask that she not be harmed either. Not knowing what to tell her father, she merely shrugged. When her father didn't say anything or admonish her for "speaking in shrugs", she looked up at him. He was staring at her, but the look on his face wasn't angry as she thought it was going to be. He was merely appraising her. He sighed heavily.

"Have you had any trouble casting spells that you have already mastered?"

Zoe wrinkled her brow, thinking. "No. I don't think so."

"Show me _Lumos_," her father commanded softly.

Zoe didn't question him. She merely put her wand in the ready position and incanted the spell.

Her father's office glowed brightly from the illumination at the tip of her wand.

"_Nox_," Zoe said and the wand immediately went out.

"Now levitate that book there," he said, pointing to a large potions text on the edge of his desk. Zoe did as he said, levitating the tome into the air easily.

Her father stood and walked to the book, grabbing it out of thin air and setting it back into its place on the desk.

As she put her wand down, she focused on her father then, curious. If she wasn't mistaken, he seemed relieved in some way.

"Did my wand change allegiance?" she asked cautiously.

"It would appear that it hasn't."

"But you thought that it might have?"

Her father nodded. "The way in which you simply gave your wand away may have made the core, for lack of a better word, _feel_ like you had rejected it. I worried that it may have turned its allegiance to Celeste Aaron in response to that rejection."

Zoe's face took on an almost horrified expression.

"However," her father continued. "I believe the fact that you gave it over willingly in an attempt to save your friend, without regard for your own safety, has made all the difference in this situation. Your wand recognized a noble act and chose to remain loyal to you."

Zoe nodded, still shocked.

"That being said…" Her father closed the space between them in two steps, making Zoe have to look up at him. He cupped her chin. "Don't you _ever_ do that again," he said, mildly stern. "It was foolish to assume that a mere Wizard's Oath among children would have bound Miss Aaron to keep her word. And I don't think you should count on your wand remaining loyal should another similar encounter occur. I shall reiterate: do _not_ hand your wand over without a fight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Zoe said softly.

Her father released her chin and and nodded once. He took a half step back, looking down on her.

"It pleases me that you wanted to protect your friend, but know that your well-being is important too."

"Yes, Papa."

Her father shrugged out of his outer robes and laid them across his desktop, then he sat down in his chair once again.

"How did Lottie find out about us?" Zoe asked curiously, turning toward him.

"You have an astute and observant friend," he said simply. "She riddled it out on her own. It seems that we were a bit too obvious for her."

"But I didn't say anything. I swear. I worked really hard to make sure people wouldn't find out…"

"Zoe," her father said to halt her rambling. "I did not say that you are at fault nor am I concerned that Miss Wickham knows of our relationship. She has proven herself most trusting and I think it will be beneficial for you to have a friend you can be completely candid with."

Zoe nodded her head, but a wave of guilt completely overtook her. With Lottie knowing, she now had two children in the school that she could be open with in regards to her relationship with her father, but her father didn't know about James. He was completely oblivious to the fact that Zoe had spent time with the young Potter and Zoe was almost certain that he wouldn't approve of those meetings. And she couldn't tell him for he would almost certainly tell her to stay away from James, forbid her from being friends with him.

But Zoe liked James as a friend—despite his sometimes maddening bravado and tendency for pranks and trouble—for he always said such intriguing things and he was kind to her. He was outgoing, so different from Lottie—not that there was anything wrong with Lottie—and they got on rather well, in Zoe's opinion. She didn't want to end their friendship.

"What's the matter?" her father asked then, pulling Zoe from her thoughts. She must have had a bit of a conflicted look on her face that was concerning him. She looked up into his eyes and shook her head.

"Nothing. I have homework, I should go back."

Her father inclined his head, flicking his wand toward the door again, taking down whatever wards he had placed on it.

"Cecilia Aaron will be gone by the morning. Explain to Lottie that she may move her things in her free time over the next day or so."

"I will," Zoe said. "Thank you, Papa."

As she left, she smiled contentedly. Her father hadn't called Lottie by her surname. Zoe thought that was a good sign that he approved of at least one of her friends.

/

As Zoe left his office, Severus let out a sigh. He had achieved the justice he had intended that night but now he needed to inform Minerva that she was going to be suspending two students. Though what Severus had said to Celeste Aaron regarding his influence with the Headmistress was true, it was still Minerva that would have to make the final decision. However, as he gathered the substantial pile of complaints that had been presented to him by Lukas Andersen, he didn't imagine he would have much trouble convincing the witch.

He'd harangued the Head Boy quite thoroughly for failing to come forward with the reports of bullying without being prompted. Andersen had been penitent, but had quite succinctly informed Severus that allegations could not always be corroborated in his own investigations, for students, when questioned later about their ill-treatment, tended to deny that they had said anything at all—no doubt fearing further persecution. Without proof, there had been little the Head Boy could do. Severus had conceded this fact and assured Andersen that he would get to the bottom of things.

And he had. At least, for now, Zoe and numerous others would be rid of this particular tormentor and they could shift their focus elsewhere. Perhaps it would improve their focus in class and their marks…

Severus shook his head, unwilling to get his hopes up in that regard as he strode from his office.

When he had approached the Headmistress's office door, he knocked, remembering her snide comment about his brazen intrusions the last time he had come here.

"Come in," Minerva called and Severus entered to find her standing behind her desk, turned and looking up at the portrait of Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Severus. I was just asking Albus to employ the help of the portraits in order to get a message to you."

"Have you forgotten how to cast a Patronus?" Severus asked snidely, frowning at the old wizard within the frame.

Minerva opened her mouth to respond, but Dumbledore spoke first.

"Of course she hasn't, but Minerva knows that it gives us old portraits a sense of pride and accomplishment to know that we can help the sitting Head, no matter how small the task," he said jovially.

"Yes, because as a painting, it's infinitely important that you have a sense of pride."

"Severus, really," Minerva chided in disapproval, pursing her lips before turning to take a seat. "I hear you had a chat with your house. I was going to request to speak with you about it."

Severus gave a curt nod as he took his own seat before her. "Indeed. I shall need you to contact the parents of Celeste and Cecilia Aaron and inform them that their daughters are common thugs and are no longer welcome at Hogwarts."

Minerva narrowed her eyes. "Expulsion? You are aware that it has been nearly two decades since you were Headmaster?"

Severus rolled his eyes, though he was quite aware that he was being admonished by his employer. Then again, he'd expected to be. He sat forward and placed upon Minerva's desk the stack of parchment.

"I only recommend suspension—through the end of the year for the elder Aaron and merely the end of term for the younger girl. There are numerous accounts there detailing various instances of bullying by both girls. I think it to be sufficient grounds for the suspensions."

"But the entire year, Severus? What is your reasoning there?" Minerva asked curiously, pulling the parchment toward her, perching her spectacles on her nose, and beginning to peruse the pages.

"Celeste Aaron _stole_ my daughter's wand."

Minerva looked up to her Defense professor abruptly. "You have proof?"

Severus inclined his head. "Charlotte Wickham explained to me exactly what happened and I imagine that at this point, Zoe would be willing to back up the accusation—as long as she was assured that Celeste will not be granted an opportunity for retaliation."

The Headmistress pursed her lips again, but gave a conceding nod of her head. "Very well, I will inform Madam Aaron that she can come this night for her daughters. I will start on the paperwork, but I'll need a written statement from you detailing everything that you were told by Miss Wickham as well as an account from Zoe, if you can get one from her. It will have to be in the file I present to the monthly Board of Governors meeting." She shook her head. "A fifth year taking a first year's wand—no doubt as a show of power… I've half a mind to expel Celeste Aaron for her thievery simply to make an example of her."

Severus nodded. "It would most certainly have been my first choice, but the last thing you and I need is attention from Cyrus Yaxley for expelling his eldest daughter before she's even taken her O.W.L.s."

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><p><strong><em>Well? How was it? I can't read your minds! So, leave a review. Have a nice day!<em>**

**__MetamorphmagusLupin**


	15. Child's Manipulation, Father's Mistake

**_Hello! 1066AndAllThat and I were in a race to see who could post their next chapter first. I'm sorry to say that I did not come through the victor on this one. Kudos, 1066AndAllThat... you win it this time. ;) Anywho... here's chapter 15. I do hope you enjoy it._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: A Child's Manipulation, A Father's Mistake<strong>

When Zoe returned to the Slytherin common room, many an eye turned in her direction. She did her best to ignore them as she sought out Lottie, eventually finding her in her dormitory room doing just as she had been told—packing her trunk.

Zoe smiled at her friend when she entered the room, but looked around cautiously.

"Where are Persimmon and Abby?" she asked.

Lottie rolled her eyes. "Out in the common room with Cecilia, I assume… probably talking about us behind our backs. They were in here, but they left as soon as I came in."

Zoe made sure the door was securely closed, and then strode fully into the room, taking a seat on Lottie's bed.

"How did you figure it out?"

Lottie looked up at her and gave her the same subtle, kind smile she'd given her in her father's office.

"It was a lot of little things, really. Some of the things you say sound a bit like Professor Snape and when you change your eyes to black, they look like his eyes. It's also the way he reacts toward you in class."

"What do you mean?" Zoe asked. She thought her father had been equally as awful to her in class as he was to every other student, perhaps worse. After all, she didn't know of any other student he'd sent to the headmistress.

Lottie was pensive for a moment. "Well, like the day in class with your wand. I don't think he would have let any other student sit at his desk and write lines. He probably would have sent them to the other side of the room or into the corridor and probably not without telling them off first. The way that he didn't say much with you—like he was disappointed—and then he took your arm and gave you all the supplies… it was just, father-like. It's hard to explain, I suppose. And I know you don't like it when you hear Simon call him a git."

Zoe merely nodded, thinking it all over. Though her father had said he wasn't concerned with Lottie knowing, it was rather obvious that the way she and her father interacted together, no matter how subtly, had not gone unnoticed. Zoe wondered if others suspected the same thing as Lottie. At least it was a relief to know that her father was just as at fault as she was.

"Well, Papa said that Cecilia will be gone later tonight, so you can move in with me tomorrow."

"All right."

After that, Zoe went to her own room for she hadn't been lying to her father when she said she had homework to complete. It was only a few questions for Professor Longbottom, but she really needed to finish it so that she could practice for a Transfiguration quiz Professor Lupin had hinted may be in store for the next day.

She had only been at it a few minutes when Cecilia came in. The girl's eyes were slightly red—presumably from crying—but that didn't stop her from shooting an angry, resentful glare in Zoe's direction as she went to her desk and started throwing things into her open trunk.

Zoe did her best to ignore the other girl, but she couldn't help chancing a glance or two across the room and the more she watched, the more she almost felt sorry for Cecilia. She didn't really know why, for the girl was a bully and caustically prejudiced against Muggles and Muggleborns.

However, it was clear that Cecilia was rather upset about this whole situation. Zoe imagined she would be pretty upset as well if she were to get suspended, but she also understood logically that if she had acted as horribly toward other people, as Cecilia had, suspension would be a fairly fitting punishment. Besides, it would really be the least of her worries. Anxiousness about her father's wrath and disappointment would likely weigh the heaviest on her mind. Zoe didn't know anything about Celeste and Cecilia's parents and therefore had no way of knowing how they would react to their daughters' sentences or the reason for their suspension, but she did recall something her father said to her once regarding why the children in Spinner's End were so awful…

_A bully is bred; they are not born,_ he had said. _Someone, at some point in their life, has made a bullying child feel inferior so, to restore some semblance of balance in their psyche, that child will sometimes turn to similar tactics of control or supremacy in order to feel powerful—or even normal—once again. Though these actions or words aren't to be justified, encouraged, or excused, know that at one time, that child felt the same way that you do now. The only thing you can do is to be above it._

Zoe knew, at the time, that her father had been trying to help her to make sense of why someone would torment another, seemingly for no reason, but she hadn't really understood what he'd meant about being above it. Now, however, she thought she might know. Cecilia had been a victim first, perhaps even Celeste's victim or most likely her parents', and for whatever reason, she hadn't been able to rise above it. Perhaps her family life didn't put her in a position to do so, or perhaps she didn't know how to bolster herself without putting others down.

Zoe bit her lip and slipped out of her desk chair to make her way toward the other side of the room. She took a deep breath before speaking to her now-former roommate.

"When are your parents coming?" she asked in what she hoped wasn't an eager tone, but a genuinely curious one.

Cecilia looked up from where she was trying to arrange her trunk and glared at Zoe for only a brief moment. She went back to her packing.

"My _mother_ is coming in less than an hour—not that it's any of _your_ business."

Zoe fidgeted. This was awkward, but for some reason, she didn't want Cecilia to go home thinking Zoe wished ill of her, or even that she was indifferent. Zoe didn't feel it would help their interactions together after the holidays; roommate or not, they still resided in the same house and had all the same classes.

"Well," she started. "Look on the bright side. You won't have to sit through History of Magic this week _and_ you get almost two full weeks added to your Christmas holidays."

That statement earned her an annoyed glare, but Cecilia didn't say anything, just resumed packing her trunk. Zoe, feeling like at least she tried, turned to go back to her homework and the two girls remained quiet until Rosalie West came to inform Cecilia that she was to report to the Headmistress's office with all her things.

"Have a good holiday," Zoe said genuinely, before Cecilia had exited.

Cecilia merely wrinkled her brow before turning and leaving the room for good.

Over the next couple of days, gossip at Hogwarts was ripe. Everyone seemed to be talking about Celeste and Cecilia Aaron's suspension and, of course, about the talk Professor Snape had had with Slytherin House. Many in other houses couldn't believe that Snape would broach such a subject as bullying and even go so far as to make an example of two students in order to make his point against it clear.

Granted, the details of Zoe's stolen wand seemed to have been glossed over entirely therefore, the students of Hogwarts were rather solid in their belief that this change in their Defense professor's demeanor had come completely out of the blue.

In all honesty, her father's tactics and sometimes caustic criticisms in class didn't change _that_ much. He was still rather acerbic and sarcastic and he rarely praised, but he did award two points to John—begrudgingly—for correctly executing a defensive tickle charm on Lyle Abner on the first try. It wasn't much, but Zoe could tell her father was trying and she adored him for it.

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><p>As they moved into the final days before the Christmas holidays, Severus found it harder and harder to keep up his new regime with the students. The anticipation of leaving the school for two glorious weeks of supposed relaxation, promised gift-exchanges, and homemade feasts made for students without focus or drive which, in turn, gave Severus the inclination to call them all dunderheads, assign lengthy essays and long detentions, and be generally unpleasant.<p>

However, he refrained.

Instead, he began awarding one or two points to students when they surprised him by coming to class prepared and he did his best to keep his criticisms to a minimum. As much as he loathed incentivizing education, he was willing to try something different to get the children to take their studies seriously—and, of course, to keep his daughter happy.

There was little chance that he was going to be more lenient when marking their essays, however—he'd decided that much. He'd always been very rigorous with Zoe in regards to her spelling, punctuation, grammar, and sentence structure and it was apparent that it had paid off. After all, at eleven, she could write more concise essays than most of his sixth years. As far as he was concerned, the students would simply have to step up to his expectations if they intended to receive the marks they desired.

Overall, things had gone well following his chat with Slytherin House. Of course, he'd heard all the grandiose conjecture into his motives, but it had all died away after a few days and, so far, his edicts were holding. He'd had no reports from his prefects or other students of bullying following the departure of the Aarons.

Personally, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his mind now that he no longer had to worry over that particular threat to Zoe—at least until the next academic year when Celeste Aaron would return and, with any luck, choose to finish her schooling without antagonizing his daughter.

Therefore, it was with his own sense of mild anticipation of a quiet Christmas away from the school that Severus walked into the staff room after dinner and a very long day of classes on the second to last Wednesday before the holidays. He had essays to mark for the third and fourth years and, despite his current contentment, he was not particularly looking forward to the dunderheaded misquotations and falsities that usually made up pre-O.W.L. papers.

As he strode in, a stack of parchment in hand, he was relieved to find Caspar Goode sitting in an armchair near the fire. He would have turned and left rather than suffer through Lupin's company or, worse yet, Lupin and Longbottom who chattered together like gossipy old women.

The current Potions Master was a dark-skinned man with a large, athletic stature. When Severus had initially met Goode at their very first staff meeting of the year, his first impression was that the man—a former professional Quidditch Beater—was probably no better at Potions than most of the students. Severus had never been able to tolerate those who put ridiculous sport before that of academics and he had even doubted whether the man could brew much at all.

He'd been wrong.

As it turned out, Goode had learned Potions under Horace Slughorn just two years behind Severus and he'd trained alongside St. Mungo's brewers while he'd played Quidditch in order to have a backup for when his career inevitably ended. The man was genuinely passionate about the subject and seemed to teach it well. Even more surprising was that Severus had actually come to regard Caspar Goode in rather high esteem. They'd had a few intellectual, potions-related discussions throughout the term and he knew he would welcome a conversation with this colleague over most others in the castle.

He approached the opposite chair from Goode and laid the essays on the table next to him. Goode looked up then from his own stack of essays.

"Severus, good evening. Care for some tea? I was just about to get some myself."

Severus nodded. "Please."

Goode took to levitating the teapot from the fire, and poured a cup for Severus, who took it graciously, then poured one for himself.

"Thank you," said Severus.

"Not a problem." Professor Goode sat back in his chair, cradling his teacup, and nodded toward the stack of parchment on the table. "I see we've come to the staff room for the same reasons tonight. What are you marking?"

"Third and fourth year essays on non-lethal hexes," Severus replied. "I'm expecting them to be dreadful. You?"

Goode smiled. "First years. They are identifying the active ingredients and proper storage and dosage of a coughing solution."

"I see." Severus nodded and took a sip of his tea. "I hope for your sanity's sake that the students have developed more of an aptitude for potions in the years since I taught the subject, as well as a firmer grasp of the rules of the English language."

The other wizard smiled kindly. "Ah, we've got a good bunch of first years," Goode replied. "Very bright, most of them. Some real standouts, too. Just today in fact, that clever girl of yours brewed quite the cauldron of Pepperup Potion."

Severus nearly choked on his tea. He frowned at the professor across from him, flabbergasted.

"Girl of mine?"

"Indeed. I sent her whole cauldron up to the hospital wing to replenish Poppy's stocks for the month."

Severus wrinkled his brow, perplexed.

"Surely you don't mean Zoe?"

"She is your only daughter, isn't she?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, yes. However, Zoe is atrocious at Potions. She's nearly blown up the house on several occasions—once with the very potion you're speaking of." Severus shook his head. "No, you must have her mistaken for another first year."

Feeling resolved in the man's obvious confusion as to whom his daughter was, Severus once more raised his teacup to his lips and sipped. Goode merely chuckled heartily.

"I don't think so, Severus. That child is a chip off the old block. But it's obvious where she gets it," he stated, inclining his head toward his colleague and taking a sip of his own tea. "You are, after all, Britain's preeminent Potions Master."

Severus frowned again. "Are you sure we're thinking of the same girl?" he asked.

Now it was Goode's turn to look confused.

"Zoe Agnew? Slytherin, dark brown hair, lean, eyes that change color at will? She was a bit far away when Minerva first pointed her out to me, but that is your daughter, is it not?"

"Yes." Severus nodded.

Goode grinned wide. "Well, I'm saying you have reason to be proud. Nearly all her potions this year have been damned near perfect and her essays are always very well thought-out and succinctly written. She's the top student in her year in my class. Honestly, she'd probably give some of my third years a run for their money."

Proud…yes. Severus just stared, awestruck, as a glorious sense of the fatherly emotion swept over him. Zoe, his daughter, was a potions prodigy. As it turned out, the little girl had inherited some of his talent after all. However, just as Severus began envisioning Zoe accepting a Hogwarts Medal of Achievement in Potion-Brewing, the image was quickly replaced by the memory of him dabbing essence of dittany onto her scorched-red palms.

He scowled. Severus didn't know what was going on, but he intended to find out.

Without another glance at Professor Goode or his stack of essays, Severus stood and strode from the room. Once outside, he pulled out his wand.

"_Point_ _me_ to Zoe."

The spell activated, making his wand spin in his palm for a moment before directing him to the right, down the corridor. He therefore marched off in the direction of the Charms classroom, his long, black robes billowing menacingly in his wake.

* * *

><p>They'd been practicing for hours, but they had eventually fully gotten the hang of Color-Changing Charms.<p>

Zoe, John, Caroline, and Lottie had therefore spent the last twenty minutes taking turns coloring each other's hair different shades. Zoe had just turned John's normally black curls to an outrageous lime green and as the girls had giggled, John had taken the liberty of replacing Zoe's dark brown locks with the most vivid hue of fuchsia.

Zoe looked quickly down into the small mirror Caroline had brought along and blinked once revealing her eyes to be the same color. At this, all three of her friends began to laugh uncontrollably.

"I like it," Lottie said, calming a bit.

"The color suits you, Zo, it really does," said Caroline through peals of laughter.

"You should go to class like that," John added.

"You don't think it makes me look too pale?" Zoe asked teasingly before grinning mischievously at her friends. "Do you think I could get away with it?"

"I don't believe that hair color is part of the dress code, Miss Agnew," stated a familiar, deep voice from behind her.

John had just opened his mouth to respond to Zoe, but instead a look of horror passed over his face as he looked beyond Zoe toward the source of the comment. Caroline and Lottie had grown silent as well.

Zoe swiveled around where she sat on Professor Flitwick's desk to see her father standing in the doorway of the classroom. He looked angry.

_Is he here for me?_ she wondered as the man swept into the room, his eyes trained on her.

_Definitely here for me._

It wasn't yet curfew, so that couldn't be it and she hadn't received detention or lost house points in weeks. As far as she knew, her marks were pretty good as well.

_What did I do?_

Zoe looked back to where her friends still sat horror-struck. All three had gone completely silent—as most students did when confronted with the teacher at his angriest. Zoe couldn't help but be annoyed with them. Of course, Caroline and John had no way of knowing that Professor Snape was, in fact, Zoe's father, but Lottie knew so Zoe didn't really understand her anxiousness.

Zoe looked back up at the towering black figure that was her father as he strode purposefully toward her and, without even glancing at her friends, he commanded, "Leave us."

_Yep. I'm in trouble._

Zoe quickly racked her brain for a universal excuse, something she could use for any manner of misdeeds, but nothing came to her. She'd just have to wing it. Then she noticed her friends hadn't made any effort to vacate the classroom as ordered.

_Go!_ she silently willed them. She didn't want her friends to lose house points or get detention simply because her father was in a mood and they stuck around after they were asked to leave.

Her father had stopped directly in front of his daughter and was staring down on her now. Zoe stared back, perplexed. She had no idea what she had done to cause this kind of reaction in her father, but she was certain this was not going to be a pleasant encounter. Her father dejectedly closed his eyes.

"I told the three of you to leave us, but I suppose I will have to say it again. Leave. This. Room," he snarled.

Caroline and John stood tensely, their eyes shifting between their friend and the furious professor. They seemed to want to stand by Zoe, take the brunt of any wrongdoing with her, but they also didn't seem to want to be on the receiving end of whatever Professor Snape had in store for her. Zoe figured it was mostly indecision keeping them in the room. Lottie's expression was much more sympathetic and Zoe could tell that she was probably trying to riddle out her professor's reaction nearly as much as Zoe was.

"NOW!" her father roared and Zoe's friends finally made their choice. They all jumped and quickly gathered their book bags.

"See you, Zoe," Caroline called as she exited the classroom.

"I'll see you in the common room," said Lottie before shooting Zoe's father a rather disapproving look.

"Good luck," whispered John as he slipped past her, practically sprinting for the door.

Her father had taken out his wand and, just as John exited, he executed a quick flick and the door was spelled closed with a resounding crash. Another nonverbal wave was what Zoe imagined to be privacy wards going up and then her father whipped back around and pointed his wand at her, changing her hair back to its normal dark brown.

"Whatever it is, I can explain," Zoe immediately spewed forth without even thinking.

Her father raised his eyebrows.

"Guilty conscience, have we?" he asked, spite dripping in every syllable.

Zoe bit her lip.

_That_ _was_ _stupid_, she admonished herself as she watched her father turn away and start to pace the room in front of her.

"Yes, I expect nothing less than a full explanation as to why you have been lying to me."

Zoe wrinkled her forehead in confusion and swung her legs off the desk in order to fully face him.

"Lying? I haven't done anything to lie about," she reasoned.

"Are you sure about that?" the professor asked, sneering.

Zoe didn't like the way she was being treated like a criminal but she screwed up her face in concentration and tried to think of whatever transgression her father was accusing her of, but nothing came to mind.

"I'm pretty sure…"

Her father stopped pacing. He folded his arms across his chest and brought one hand up to rest under his chin.

"That's very interesting indeed because I have just come from having a delightful conversation with Professor Goode…"

Zoe saw her father's eyes flick to her and he was no doubt reveling in seeing the color drain from her face at the realization of what her Potions professor had no doubt imparted to him about her classroom performance.

"Professor Goode?" she asked.

"Yes. And he had the most _insightful_ things to say. Tell me, how are you doing in your Potions class? Are you keeping up with the coursework?"

"Potions…"

Her father frowned. "Stop repeating everything I say like a damned parrot and answer the question!" he spat, causing Zoe to jump slightly.

She slid off the desk and began walking towards him, comprehension dawning on her in waves.

"Papa, it's not a big deal," she said, shrugging off what her father obviously felt was a major breach of trust for he leaned over and slammed his fists down on the nearest student desk and closed his eyes in agitation. Zoe halted where she stood, watching as her father pinched the bridge of his nose. She was obviously giving him a headache and she knew from experience that headaches never helped her father's moods.

"You will explain to me now," he began again, his voice dangerously low, "why you suddenly have a miraculous aptitude for potion-making when you have spent the last two years nearly _killing_ yourself attempting to brew the simplest of concoctions."

Zoe was highly confused as to why this realization was making her father so angry, and she voiced her befuddlement.

"I thought, maybe, you might be proud—"

"It is difficult to be proud of a manipulation! EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW!" he roared.

Zoe took a step back toward the teacher's desk, shaken by his anger at her. She had thought this news would please her father, not make him scream at her and, as she stared into his livid face, her own emotions started to rise and she was suddenly overcome with the impulse to flee. She turned away from him then and stuffed her Charms book back into her rucksack. She didn't want to look at her father anymore.

"I'm not going to explain anything to you," she informed him.

She bit back the tears that were forming at the corners of her eyes and threw her bag over her shoulder. She didn't want to walk past her father, but he was blocking her way up the aisle to the door. She barged past him, tramping childishly across the classroom.

"I have not dismissed you," he called to her at the back of the room. Zoe had reached for the door handle to find it locked. She stood staring at it as if doing so might elicit it to swing open. "Come here, now."

Zoe spun around to face her father, eyes brimming with tears and her mind reeling with nothing but defiance and the longing to exit the room. Nonetheless, she flopped down into the desk nearest the door, crossed her arms, and glared up at the man. Her father took a deep breath and she could tell he was trying to be the rational one in this argument. He approached her and leaned forward on the desk beside her, speaking almost tenderly this time, but there was still an edge to his tone.

"Zoe, I am merely trying to comprehend how just a few months ago you were unable to produce even an acceptable brew of the simplest potion on your own and now, in your first term in a classroom, you seem to have superior abilities over all your classmates, in theory and practical application, from what I've been told. Will you please help me to understand this?"

Zoe continued to stare at him.

"Maybe it's the quality of the teaching," she stated boldly, not completely understanding why she was trying to get under her father's skin, but at the same time feeling like the derision was justified in some way.

He stood upright and arched an eyebrow at her. "Nice try, but you excelled just fine in all of your other subjects with me."

"Then it's a mystery," Zoe said, shrugging and goading him even further.

"Mind your attitude," her father scolded. She merely stayed quiet and looked away out the windows to her left.

Zoe knew she was being impertinent and hardheaded, but she was doing it to frustrate her father more than anything. If he couldn't figure out for himself why she had done what she had, he didn't deserve to know.

"Look at me," she heard him say after several moments of standoff. Zoe thought the request was simple enough and had assumed her father wanted to persuade her to talk some more—that he'd decided to try a different tactic—but she was not going to budge on this. Resolved, Zoe turned her blue eyes and fixed them on her father's onyx ones and instantly, a strange sensation took over her.

Images flashed before her eyes so fast she could barely tell what they were. Barely, but she could tell they were definitely memories—her memories.

_She experienced getting her Hogwarts letter again and meeting Caroline on the train… She saw a night when she stayed with Minerva, sitting before the fire talking and laughing with her godmother on the sofa next to her… She saw an image of her leaning her head against her father's shoulder, reading _TheDailyProphet_ with him when she was seven or maybe eight years old… She recalled one of her flying lessons and the most recent memory of John's colorful hair… She watched herself being shown by her father how to preserve herbs in the conservatory and then another of her giggling at him when she'd accidently squirted Stinksap onto his shirt during one of their brewing sessions…_

The onslaught of her thoughts was a strange sensation and Zoe felt disoriented by the experience.

Suddenly, though, the memories shifted to ones that were more unpleasant.

_She was reminded of the time she had snuck into her father's bedroom in the early hours of the morning and knicked his wand from the table next to his bed while he slept. She remembered the thrill when all the books in his study flew off their shelves as she'd flicked the wand about but mostly, she recalled the fear that he would find out what she had done… She remembered a time when the local Muggle children had run away from her, screaming, when she had inadvertently made a boy's eyebrows enlarge after he had pushed her to the ground… Then, she watched that day when the Pepperup Potion cauldron exploded in her bedroom and her father's awful threat to her… She recollected standing at the door of her father's study for what felt like the thousandth time, wishing he would come and talk with her but the door being slowly, unceremoniously, closed in her face instead with a quick request that she play outside for the day owing to his need to work. _

She didn't want to see the memories anymore; they were sad and some of them made her anxious, but they kept coming.

_Next, she was standing over a cauldron in the cellar, her father by her side, instructing her in the proper brewing of some potion. When he turned away to fetch a second stirrer, Zoe dumped in an extra dash of dried valerian, causing the concoction to boil over. Her father vanished the liquid and spent several moments rubbing his head in frustration before he sighed and instructed her to start again. Zoe was rather surprised that her father hadn't noticed the smirk on her face or the gleam of triumph in her eyes at the time…_

Then, just as suddenly as the onslaught had begun, Zoe found herself sitting in the Charms classroom. Her father was now sitting in the desk in front of her and he had an odd sort of expression on his face.

"You stole my wand?" he asked quietly, seemingly to himself. "You were seven… I thought Ollie had been cleaning the bookcases. Everything was stacked so neatly on the floor…"

He shook his head in apparent disbelief. "And the potions… You deliberately sabotaged them."

Zoe didn't know how it had happened, but somehow, her father had seen into her head. He'd seen everything.

"What did you just do?!" she screamed at him, a flood of tears streaming down her face.

"I have ascertained why you are sometimes a problem child," he stated dryly, not even looking at her. Though his features held a strange sorrow, he didn't look _sorry_ at all.

"I can't believe— I can't— Why would you—?" Zoe breathed out, rising to her feet.

"Zoe…" her father said calmly, reaching out and taking a hold of her wrist as he tried to get her to sit down again. He seemed to have just then realized she was upset.

"I don't— Why did you—?"

There were so many emotions going through her—shock, shame, confusion—she wasn't even sure how to process them all. She finally centered in on the strongest: anger.

"_I HATE YOU_!" she shouted into his face, wrenching out of his grasp. She barely registered the shocked, sad expression that played across her father's features at her words as she started once more toward the door.

"_ALOHOMORA_!" she bellowed, not even stopping to take out her wand and ignoring her father calling her name behind her.

The door instantly burst open in a blinding light and a shower of green sparks. Zoe jogged quickly down the corridor: she wanted to get as far away from that man as she possibly could. After descending three floors, she slipped past the tapestry on the ground floor near the Entrance Hall that concealed a tiny winding staircase that led down into the dungeons. She'd never seen anyone in the stairwell before and figured she could sit there alone for quite some time.

She couldn't believe what her father had just done; it had been a complete violation of her privacy. And for what? So he could find out why she was doing _well_ in her classes? It just didn't make any sense. He had manipulated her into telling the truth before and he'd threatened her into explanations, but never had he magically looked into her mind, breached her innermost thoughts, for the answers he sought. She didn't even know such a thing was possible.

Zoe had never exactly been told that you shouldn't just enter a person's mind without asking, but she assumed the courtesy was nothing less than not apparating into a person's home unannounced. It was wrong and there was no doubt in her mind that if the roles were reversed, her father would tell her she was being rude and he would punish her. So Zoe was going to punish him, she didn't exactly know how she was going to do that yet, but she figured avoidance and the silent treatment was a fairly good place to start.

* * *

><p>Severus sat alone in the Charms classroom for what felt like hours, staring off into space, barely conscious of the dwindling sunlight and the darkening of the room. He now knew that he was the one at fault for his daughter's behavior; he alone had to take responsibility for the fact that his child acted out as a result of trying to gain his attention, his affection even. She couldn't be held accountable for this; she had only been doing what she could to ensure that he saw her.<p>

He'd been busy these last few years—he couldn't deny that. He'd taken on new contracts, expanded his small enterprise, and Zoe had grown and become so much more independent. He supposed that with the ensuing changes, they'd grown a bit more distant than they'd been when she was younger, but perhaps it hadn't been what Zoe had wanted. Perhaps, she had felt neglected by him or shoved to the wayside. Severus couldn't imagine really thinking any of this at the time, but then, he figured it had been a normal part of her growing up. He hadn't wanted to hover over her and get in the way of all that.

But, he should have seen this. He should have recognized a classic acting-out tactic to gain notice. He was a Potions Master for Merlin's sake. He should that _seen_ that the potions were botched intentionally and try to understand why she'd done it. But he knew he would never have wanted to believe his child—a girl who knew how he felt about carelessness and waste—was capable of destroying potions and cauldrons simply to gain notice in the eyes of her only parent.

He lowered his head into his hands and sighed heavily. He had most certainly made a mess of things now. He had used Legilimency on his daughter. He hadn't planned it, of course, but he had just been so…frustrated by her stubbornness—stubbornness she undoubtedly inherited from him.

And it had wounded him more than any Cruciatus Curse to hear those awful words come out of her mouth, despite knowing that he had richly earned them.

He had breached the very core of her privacy in order to ascertain a truth that he could have found if he had simply stepped back and assessed the various situations on his own. Or, if he had just talked with her. Instead, he had done what he always did: he had raged at her and demanded answers and scared her. He had hurt her, emotionally anyway. Severus knew that if she never forgave him for this, he would wholly understand.

He stood suddenly from the student desk, making his way toward the exit. He knew now that he should have reveled in the fact that his daughter was so good at potions, offered to have her come and work in his private lab whenever she wanted, told her he was proud of her, but he hadn't done any of that. He had accused her of manipulations… gods, he was a terrible parent.

To top it all off, he needed to apprise Minerva of the situation before the Headmistress heard the story from Zoe in her emotional state of mind. No doubt, she would have many choice words to use about Severus's use of Legilimency on an eleven-year-old student, much less his own daughter.

As Severus stalked toward the Headmistress's office, he knew there would probably be hoarse screaming from her and Severus would probably be snide and defend his actions, but he had been wrong and he was going to need all the help he could get from the girl's godmother in order to make this right again.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Review! Any and all grievances involving the events of this chapter, however, please address to Mr. Severus Snape. I think we can all agree that he's deserving of the doghouse. Have a great day!<em>**


	16. Scorn: Part I

_**So, I know I left you all with a bit of a cliffhanger on the last chapter but, seeing as how I've had the next few chapters written for awhile, I decided not to keep you waiting too long. As for cliffhangers... unfortunately, you may need to get used to them. Sorry! Don't hate me! Also, this chapter's a bit longer than usual. I hope you don't mind. **_

_**Enjoy.**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Scorn of a Strong-Willed Young Witch: Part I<strong>

"_Why_?" Minerva asked, her agitation clear by the way she slumped over her desk with her elbows propping up her head as she massaged her temples with her fingers. Severus had just explained his entire encounter with his daughter to her and he thought he had made it clear that he was trying to get to the truth of her behavior but, apparently, Minerva had forgotten that part.

"As I said, I was trying to ascertain—"

"Yes, Severus, I understood why you did it. What eludes my understanding is _why_ you felt that Legilimency was _necessary_ to gain this information from your daughter? Frankly, I find it rather obvious that Zoe was merely trying to gain your attention and acceptance with every failed potion-brewing attempt. After all, what did you do every time she failed?"

Severus wrinkled his brow. "I assisted her in brewing it the proper way," he said.

It did seem rather apparent now. Zoe had wanted him to spend time with her and purposely mussing up every brew she attempted had been the perfect way to get exactly what she wanted from him. She knew he was passionate about potions and wouldn't be able to stand the idea that his child couldn't brew adequately and would therefore make sure that Zoe understood the proper brewing of a destroyed potion. She hadn't even cared that he had punished her on some occasions; she just wanted to be near her father and share with him a task that he very much enjoyed. How could he have been so ridiculously blind?

"Yes, you assisted her, just like she knew you would. I'm sure she's had you figured out for quite some time." Minerva eyed her colleague with a tinge of amused annoyance to her tone. "Congratulations, Severus. As highly-educated, intelligent, and magically powerful as you are, you've managed to be successfully manipulated by an eleven-year-old."

Severus glared at Minerva even though he knew she was right, though Zoe's manipulations had really started before she'd even turned nine. Merlin, he _had_ raised a little Slytherin, hadn't he?

"You still haven't answered my question, however. Why Legilimency?"

Severus shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

"Truly, I never intended to do it. The girl just… she was being so exceptionally stubborn. At the time, I was curious and angry and she was sitting there, sulking, and… Merlin, Minerva, what have I done? She'll never trust me again."

Minerva eyed Severus sternly for several long minutes.

"You have certainly made a mess of things. Honestly, Severus, you could handle the tantrums of a sadistic Dark Lord, but those of a little girl leave you so flummoxed that you resort to the tactic of reading her mind?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Headmistress and wanted to point out that Legilimency was hardly mind reading, but the situation didn't warrant a retort, so he softened his features and sighed.

"I don't know what came over me. I would like to say that I was worried that it was something more serious, that I did it to protect her in some way, but I don't think that explanation is true. I did it to satisfy my own selfish need to know."

Upon that statement, Minerva's features finally melted into a pitying look. She shook her head.

"You made a mistake, but I don't believe that all is lost. She still loves you."

"I doubt she will want to face me," Severus conceded.

Minerva nodded her agreement and sighed. "Yes, you'll have to be patient. Give her some time to stew. I will have a word with her tomorrow and we'll see where that leads. In the meantime, Severus, give her some space. She is no doubt feeling betrayed by you. She is hurting and probably confused and angry and just trying to process this is going to be hard for her."

"But how can I talk to her, apologize, if I avoid her as much as she is likely to avoid me?" Severus asked.

"In two or three days' time, send for her. Take her to your quarters or perhaps to your laboratory and explain yourself. I don't think you should let her dwell on this for too long, but she does probably need some time to herself. Let her figure out how she feels, then you need to get it out in the open and talk."

Severus nodded his head, defeated. Several minutes of silence passed between the Headmistress and the Defense professor with the only sounds filtering into their ears were from below where students could be heard chatting loudly on the grounds, using up their last hour or so before curfew would be enforced. Severus couldn't help but wonder if Zoe was one of them, though he doubted it. Zoe was like him. She had been humiliated and hurt and she was angry and, like him, she would hide herself away and brood for several hours before venturing out again.

"How did Zoe know that you had breached her mind?"

Severus pulled himself from his thoughts and looked up to the Headmistress.

"Pardon?"

"How did she know?" Minerva queried again. "I don't claim to be an expert on mind magic by any means, but it was always my understanding that those who were unaware of Legilimency or those unable to protect themselves—anyone but a trained Occlumens—were typically ignorant of when their minds had been invaded."

Severus shook his head.

"I…don't know. There are two likely explanations, I suppose. One is that because Zoe is my daughter, we already have a rather strong mental bond that allowed her to feel my presence the second I entered her thoughts. It's possible that had anyone else done so, Zoe would have remained ignorant of the intrusion."

Minerva nodded. "And the other explanation?"

Severus shrugged. "Zoe has a natural talent for the skills of Legilimency and Occlumency that would have otherwise remained dormant had I not—"

"I see," Minerva said kindly, cutting into his self-loathing. "Personally, I imagine it's a little of both."

Again, Severus nodded then sat quietly. After a few moments, he sighed heavily and spoke to the room at large suddenly feeling the need to get his thoughts off his chest.

"She told me she hated me," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Severus, you know she didn't mean it," Minerva said softly from across the desk.

Severus looked into the woman's gray-blue eyes momentarily. "I would deserve it if she did."

* * *

><p>Zoe hadn't paid attention to a single thing Professor Goode had said in Potions class. She hadn't taken notes that day; she had preferred to sit idly and stare at a beetle crawling around on the floor near the storage cabinets to her left. Though normally quite persistent in writing down everything her professors said, since her encounter with her father she had felt apathetic, but most of all she had felt saddened and angry and all of those emotions made it very difficult to concentrate on her classes in any capacity. Besides, she could get notes from Lottie later.<p>

"Miss Agnew? Zoe?"

Zoe looked up lazily toward Professor Goode. He was eyeing her with an unmistakable look of confusion on his face and a bit of concern. She knew the professor had never seen her not participate in class before and he was probably rather curious as to what was the problem.

"Yes, sir?" Zoe asked.

"I asked if you could tell me the stirring ratio for the burn paste we will be brewing today?"

Zoe perked up slightly. She hadn't even been aware that Professor Goode had asked her a question.

"Oh, er… Depending on the size of the cauldron, you give one anticlockwise stir for each drop of aloe. But any cauldron larger than a size six, the ratio changes to one stir for every two drops of aloe."

Professor Goode nodded. "Very good. Five points for Slytherin. Now, class, can anyone elaborate and tell me what effects the aloe has in this particular brew?"

Zoe's thoughts drifted from the lecture once again as the sound of the professor's voice became nothing but a dull drone in the background of her spinning thoughts. For some reason, a part of her wished her father had been there to hear her answer.

_He probably wouldn't care that I knew the answer anyway_, Zoe then thought sadly.

She sighed as she realized that the other students in the class had suddenly started to move about, preparing to begin the day's brew.

Zoe took her own cauldron and placed it on the burner just as the dungeon door opened and admitted an older Hufflepuff boy with sandy hair who walked up to Professor Goode and handed him something. Zoe was just about to set some water to heat when she heard her name for the second time that day.

"Zoe Agnew," Goode said, looking up from a small roll of parchment. Zoe looked up at her professor curiously. "The headmistress has requested that you come to her office immediately."

"_Ooh_," many of the first years whispered, obviously under the impression that Zoe was being summoned in order to be reprimanded for some misdeed.

"That's enough," Professor Goode said sternly and the teasing died away. "Miss Agnew? You may pack up and report to the Headmistress's office."

"Yes, sir," Zoe said, pulling her cauldron from the worktable and tossing her supplies inside it.

She quickly gathered her things and left.

Once muttering the password to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's office, she noticed she didn't need to knock on Minerva's door upon her arrival. It was open and Zoe realized that her godmother had obviously been waiting for her. She waved her in and Zoe stepped across the stone floor quickly, taking a seat opposite the regal desk without ever being asked.

Minerva pulled a tin of biscuits from a corner of her desk and offered one to Zoe.

"Thank you," Zoe said as she politely pulled a ginger newt from the paper within and nibbled at it.

Minerva laid the tin aside and then eyed Zoe quizzically. Zoe fidgeted, a little uncomfortable by the Headmistress's gaze.

"Er, Professor? Have I done something wrong?" she finally asked.

Minerva sat back in her chair.

"Not that I'm aware of. Why on earth would you think that you've done something wrong?"

"Because you…summoned me," Zoe stated, confused. "Students aren't typically called to the Headmistress unless they've done something wrong."

"Zoe, would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you."

"How about some pumpkin juice?"

Zoe was starting to get the feeling that Minerva was stalling.

"No, thank you," Zoe said again, wrinkling her brow. "Minerva, if I'm not here because I've done something wrong, then why did you ask me to come?"

"You probably wouldn't believe that I just wanted to see how you were, would you?"

Zoe steeled her godmother with a skeptical look. "Do you normally pull students out of class for that?"

Minerva sighed. "No, not typically."

"Then, no, I don't," Zoe stated plainly.

Minerva narrowed her eyes, but Zoe could tell she wasn't really upset by her cheek. The headmistress folded her hands across her lap and nodded slightly.

"You've always been an astute child. I should have known better than to think that would work." She took a deep breath and continued. "It has come to my attention that you had a rather…upsetting situation with your father yesterday. I did, in fact, want to check on your well-being—"

"I'm fine," Zoe interrupted, her voice much more defiant than she had intended it to be.

Minerva merely paused and stared at Zoe, then pushed through.

"—as well as hear your version of the events."

Zoe looked to her lap. "I'm sure that whatever Professor Snape told you is true," she said quietly.

There was silence. Minerva was obviously processing Zoe's use of her father's proper—rather than familial—title and fully recognizing the significance of it.

"I would like to hear your version of what happened nonetheless," she said kindly.

Zoe looked back to her godmother. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Zoe, dear, I know that you are feeling angry and betrayed, but I think it best that you talk to me about this—"

"I said, I don't want to." Zoe could feel her temper rising and she wasn't entirely sure why she was directing all her hurt and anger towards her godmother.

Minerva's lips pressed into a thin line and she sighed heavily through her nostrils, staring at her goddaughter. Zoe stared right back, hoping that if she kept eye contact, her point would come across plainly.

"Zoe, your father is very remorseful of his intrusion of your mind. He—"

Zoe rocketed up out of her chair then, her fists clenched in anger. She knew why her godmother had brought her here. It wasn't to talk with her, to get her version of the events as she had said; it was to get her to forgive her father. And that was _not_ going to happen.

"Are you on _his_ side?" Zoe asked desperately, her voice rising in pitch.

"I am on nobody's side. I am just trying to make you understand that your father—"

"You are!" Zoe screamed. "You're taking his side!"

"Zoe, please calm down—"

"No! I should have known you would side up with him!"

Zoe picked up her satchel and practically sprinted from the office, ignoring Minerva's cries behind her to come back. She couldn't get away fast enough.

* * *

><p>Over the next two days, Severus did exactly as Minerva had suggested. He gave Zoe a wide berth in class, never calling on her and only making eye contact when she handed in her essay on redcaps. Her eyes, he noticed, had remained a strange bluish-green color since their encounter and he was curious to know what the exact emotion was that she was feeling. But most of all, he desperately wanted to apologize to her, to make it up to her somehow.<p>

Minerva's meeting with his daughter the day before hadn't gone nearly as well as the Headmistress had hoped, either. At dinner that night, she had detailed to Severus the fact that it seemed like Zoe was holding her emotions in. The girl had stubbornly refused to say anything to her godmother and, once it was discovered that Minerva was working with her father to try to make amends, she had apparently accused Minerva of taking Severus's side and had stormed from the office.

This did not bode well for Severus and, as he watched his daughter sitting alone and picking at her food at the Slytherin table that Friday evening, he felt like a piece of him was slowly and painfully being torn away from him—and he needed that piece, he couldn't live without it. He needed to talk to her. To hell with Minerva and her opinion that the girl needed space.

Severus stood suddenly from the Head table, his eyes locked on his sad child and walked determinedly down the aisle toward her.

"I need to see you in my office now, Miss Agnew," he said, halting directly behind her.

Zoe turned and looked up at him.

"I haven't finished my dinner yet, Professor," she stated matter-of-factly. She wasn't cheeky about it. Her statement was quiet and respectful.

Severus looked around at the other students. All eyes in the general vicinity were on him and his daughter and they were raptly paying attention to their exchange. Severus frowned.

"Fine. As soon as you have finished, come to my office." Then he strode away, his long robes billowing behind him.

Over forty-five minutes later, he remained alone in his office, waiting and pacing. Dinner had been over for twenty minutes and it did not take this long to get from the Great Hall to his office. Zoe had deliberately stalled him, knowing he wouldn't make a scene in front of the entire school. She had once again used the knowledge of his behavior to get her own way.

Severus pulled his wand from his robes and cast a locating charm on Zoe. After a few moments it bounced back, indicated to him that his daughter was currently sitting in her dormitory many floors below. She had never intended to come; he knew that now. He collapsed into his chair and rubbed his eyes. He needed to talk to her, but he couldn't do that if she wouldn't agree to see him.

He sat contemplating his next move for another ten minutes when a voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he was her Head of House. He had every right to enter into the Slytherin dormitories and demand one of his students to meet with him in his office. After all, the student, Zoe Agnew, had deliberately disregarded a direct request from her professor and that alone warranted that disciplinary action be taken.

He would make her talk to him.

Severus stood and quickly exited his office, stalking through the castle down to the dungeons.

Upon his arrival in the Slytherin common room, Severus was annoyed when a student instantly approached him.

_As if I was just checking up on things…_

"Professor Snape— I was just about to come find you—" Stellan Tate, one of the sixth year prefects, said. "Vesper Harris hexed Malcolm Davies in the corridor when he broke it off with her to— Well, that isn't important— But he's been retching up whole fruit and…"

Severus glared at the prefect. "Mr. Tate. I did not come here to hear your tattling. I suggest you escort Mr. Davies up to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey can sort him out rather than pestering me with the mundane details of an adolescent lover's dispute."

"Er, yes, sir," Tate said, furrowing his brow, but rushing up the boys' corridor to find Davies.

All eyes in the common room were on Severus now. It wasn't exactly an odd thing to see their Head of House in the dormitory, nor was it entirely ordinary. After all, he was charged with making announcements and checking in from time to time to make sure the students that inhabited here didn't destroy the place, but Severus didn't like to be a regular presence. It was much easier to catch troublemakers when they were lulled into the false sense that their primary supervisor was apathetic to the shenanigans of his House. This, of course, was preposterous. Severus had several ways of monitoring the students of Slytherin, through both magical and non-magical methods. At the moment, however, he was not here to check on the general populace of Slytherin House; he was here for a specific pupil.

A quick scan of the common room made it clear that Zoe was not there so Severus knew she must be in her bedroom. He walked resolutely toward the girls' corridor and paused at a chair settled next to the entrance and looked down at the light brown-haired girl sitting there.

"Miss Selwyn," he addressed the fifth-year who didn't even look at him as she was focused solely on the magazine in her lap.

"Professor Snape," she acknowledged simply.

"I need you to go into the girls' dormitory, find the first year, Zoe Agnew, and bring her out here."

Severus crossed his arms as Evangeline Selwyn took her sweet time finishing the paragraph she was reading before slowly marking her page and looking up at the professor before her. She crossed her hands over her lap and smiled pleasantly at him.

"Why do you want to see her, sir?" she asked boldly. Severus frowned.

"I don't believe that is any of your business."

"Fair enough," she said, shrugging. "But if I _were_ to do this for you, what would be in it for me?"

Severus glared at the girl before reaching down and pulling her to her feet.

"You won't spend the entirety of your next term in detention. _That_ is what's in it for you, you insolent girl," he growled before shoving her unceremoniously through the door toward the girls' corridor, inwardly cursing the Slytherin traits.

* * *

><p>"Oi! Firstie! Professor Snape is in the common room. He wants to see you."<p>

Zoe looked up from her Transfiguration textbook at Evangeline Selwyn who was standing in the doorway of her bedroom staring at her. She glanced briefly at Lottie, who merely shrugged, giving Zoe a sympathetic look before she went back to writing her essay. So her father had come to Slytherin House to get her…well, she had no intention of making this easy for him. Zoe turned to the fifth year.

"Really?" she asked, feigning surprise.

"Yeah, so come on. I'm supposed to bring you out."

"Tell him I'm ill," Zoe said, going back to her reading and waving her hand dismissively at the girl.

There was utter silence at her statement, but Zoe was fairly certain that both girls' jaws had dropped nearly to the floor.

"It's your funeral," Evangeline finally conceded, shrugging, as she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

"Zoe, you should go," Lottie encouraged from her desk, giving Zoe a shocked look. "You're going to be in a lot of trouble with your father if you don't."

"Maybe," Zoe said. She honestly didn't care.

* * *

><p>Though it had only been a few minutes since Severus had sent Selwyn to fetch his daughter, he felt like he had been pacing in front of the dormitory door for an hour. For he had realized that, in his haste to get his daughter to actually sit down and speak with him, he hadn't really thought about how he was going to explain himself to the girl or how he was going to go about making it up to her.<p>

What if she never forgave him? Minerva had kept telling him that Zoe would, that she was resilient and that she loved him, but Severus had his doubts. Nonetheless, there was no way this was going to get worked out if the two of them couldn't even get into the same room together to do so.

The door of the girls' dormitory swung open then and Severus looked up just as Selwyn came out alone and resumed her seat, picking up her magazine and turning to the page she had left on.

"Well?" Severus asked impatiently.

The fifth year looked up at him briefly as if just realizing he was standing there and hadn't just sent her on an errand.

"She said she is ill and doesn't feel like coming out."

Severus frowned. This was yet another affront to his authority and he was not going to stand for it.

Pulling out his wand, he walked to the door and began temporarily dissolving the ancient wards that had been employed to keep males out of this corridor. When he had brought down the final charm, he looked down at Selwyn once again.

"Which is her room?"

"Number fifteen," the girl said, sighing as if bored with his continued need of her assistance.

Severus nodded once and marched down the hallway to stand before the door to number fifteen and paused momentarily, casting one more locating charm. Zoe was definitely inside the room, as was her roommate, so Severus pounded loudly upon the door rather than storming in and taking his daughter by force, as he was truly tempted to do. He heard a chair being pushed back and a moment later, Lottie Wickham opened the door and her mouth dropped open.

"Close your jaw, girl. You'll attract flies," he said scathingly as he strode purposefully into the room.

Zoe—apparently having been lounging on her bed reading—was on her feet in an instant upon hearing his voice. Severus turned to the other first year.

"I think you need a break from your studying, Miss Wickham."

Luckily, the girl didn't need to be told twice. She understood that he wanted her to give him some privacy with his daughter, so she quickly gathered her homework and left, darting down the corridor.

Severus turned back to his daughter whose defensive attitude was obvious in the way she crossed her arms and leaned against her bedpost. He narrowed his eyes at her and strode forward, grabbing one of her arms.

"You were supposed to meet me in my office once you finished your dinner," he growled to his daughter, looking down on her, "and you know very well that when I tell you to do something, I expect to be obeyed."

Zoe didn't say anything, merely glared at him and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Okay, this is how this is going to work," he said through gritted teeth, unhanding her, but irritated by her insubordination. "You are going to walk out of here like a civilized young witch and we are going to proceed upstairs together to my office where we are going to have a discussion about what happened two days ago."

Zoe raised her chin defiantly and sat down on her bed, her arms still crossed. Severus knew this routine: she had no intention of doing as he said.

"All right, you will walk out of here like a civilized young witch _or_ I can drag you out and you can make a spectacle all the way through the common room like a little hellion. It is your choice, but either way, you are coming with me to my office."

Zoe looked to the floor for several moments, apparently weighing the options he had given her. Then she suddenly stood and strode out the door. Severus rolled his eyes and followed after her. The two of them ignored the curious stares of the students in the common room and walked quickly through and out the door.

Once outside the Slytherin dormitory, however, Zoe stopped moving completely. Apparently, when she was away from the prying eyes of her peers, his daughter had no qualms about defying him. Severus did not intend to tolerate it, however, as he looked back at her and saw the rebellious color of her eyes once more. He therefore grabbed her wrist and started to pull her along with him. Zoe dug her heels into the stone floor and struggled against their forward motion.

"Stop this childishness this minute," Severus commanded, struggling to keep the girl moving.

When Zoe continued to fight him, he stopped and raised a stern eyebrow at her as she crossed her arms once more, standing solidly and jutting her chin out with irreverence.

"Fine," Severus said and he reached down and picked her up at the waist, carrying her under his arm. She was much too old to be carried, of course, but she was going with him whether she liked it or not.

"Put me down!" she demanded, struggling for him to release her.

"No," he said sharply, equally struggling to keep a hold of her.

As he stalked toward the main stairwell, Severus started to think he would never get her all the way up to his office with her wriggling around and hitting him as much as she was—not to mention the scene they were likely to make if any older students or staff were milling about in the Entrance Hall or the corridors. He paused for a moment and turned back the way he came then took a slight detour down a mostly unused dungeon corridor and stopped in front of the door to his private potions lab.

He ran his wand over the door and muttered an incantation, unlocking it, and dissolving the wards. He walked in and put Zoe down—she immediately tried to make an escape, but he pulled her back by grabbing a handful of her robes—before turning to lock and ward the door. He had just cast an Imperturbable Charm when the girl suddenly started pounding her fists into his back as she cried to be released. He turned, livid now, and caught both of her wrists.

"You will _not_ hit me," he scolded. "You have every right to be as furious as you want with me, to be as silent and defiant as you deem necessary—for the time being—but you _will_ respect me, young lady. Is that understood?"

Zoe looked up at him with angry tears streaming down her face. Severus acknowledged her still silence as compliance, released her, and walked across the room to bring up the flame in the fireplace in order to give them some more heat and light. He stared into the flames. He could hear Zoe sniffling behind him, but he needed to compose himself before he started to speak to her or this could all go much farther downhill than it already was.

After several minutes, he turned around to see that Zoe had her back to him. She was facing the door, leaning her forehead against it as if willing it to open. Or perhaps she was resigning herself to the fact that she was trapped for the moment. Severus frowned.

"That door is much more heavily warded than the simple locking and silencing spells I used in the Charms classroom. A flare-up of righteous anger is unlikely to yield the same results as the other day and I wouldn't suggest you try it," he told her from across the room.

He watched as Zoe slowly turned to face him, keeping her back against the door. She hadn't stopped crying, though she was doing so rather silently, and the red-rimmed eyes she bored into him were intense, sad, and confused all at the same time. Severus wanted to flinch away from them, but he didn't. He couldn't.

"Will you let me out?" she asked, her voice soft and bereft of emotion.

"No," Severus told her automatically.

Zoe frowned and averted her eyes to the ground for a moment then brought them back to meet his once more.

"_Please_ will you let me out?"

"My refusal to release you has nothing to do with politeness."

"I want to leave," his daughter pressed, more urgent.

"At the moment, I don't really care what you want," he countered.

"You _never_ care!" she screamed, her emotions bubbling up again. She slid down the door and collapsed onto the cold, stone floor and pulled her knees up to her chest then, setting her arms on top, she buried her face within the sleeves of her school robes. Severus stared at her for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed before deciding that maybe the best thing was to simply comfort her.

He walked slowly toward his daughter and crouched directly in front of her, his long, black robes billowing down to rest in an arc around him. The girl didn't acknowledge him there even when he reached out and placed his hands on her arms in what he thought was a gesture of tenderness and reassurance.

"Zoe—" he started, as kindly as he could.

"Go away," she said, her voice agitated and muffled within her robes.

"I will not. We need to have a conversation."

"I _don't_ want to talk to you!"

"You say that in anger. I am certain that if you calmed down, you would want to hear what I have to say."

"No, I wouldn't! _Go_ _away!_ Leave me alone!" she screamed into his face, thrusting his hands away from her arms and kicking hard at his legs and torso with her feet as she tried to get him away from her.

Severus was more than a little bit frustrated by her continued babyish tantrums when he was quite clearly trying to make amends for his actions—this was absolutely unacceptable. He understood her anger, even felt that it was warranted, but she would control it in a civilized, productive way and not through these vicious little outbursts.

He grabbed her legs and tried to still them with one arm while his other hand grabbed her chin hard so that she had no choice but to look right at him. Then he brought his voice down to a level she would find menacingly low, even for him.

"_Do_ _not_ _hit_ _me_ _again_. I am growing weary of repeating myself," he hissed. "Now, you are going to allow me an explanation without the use of these ridiculous theatrics."

Zoe struggled to pull her head away from his grasp, shooting a sour glare at him as she attempted to release her legs. When Severus nearly fell over trying to contain her, he tightened his hold and brought his voice down even more.

"_However_, if you choose to persist with this petulant disrespect," he continued, very nearly growling it at her. "I can assure you, you are not going to like where it leads you."

Zoe discontinued her struggling and pulled away from him, averting her eyes from his, and Severus assumed that his threat of some unnamed punishment was enough to put a stop to her intolerable behavior. He stood then.

"You are much too old for temper tantrums," he scolded, looking down on her. "And if the circumstances were different, I would not have tolerated this behavior for as long as I have."

After several moments where she remained silent, he decided that the proverbial ball was in her court and walked back toward the fireplace. Once there, he conjured two large, soft, cushy armchairs and collapsed into one.

"We _are_ going to talk about this, even if we have to be here all night and through the weekend," he said, looking sternly back at his daughter. "When you have decided to stop acting like a spoiled little baby, you may come over and sit with me. Until that time, you can stay there on the hard floor and snivel—for all the good it will do you."

His daughter seemed to consider him briefly, but when she saw his eyes on her, she turned her tear-stained face away and simply rocked back and forth slightly as if content to stay where she was for all of time. Though he wasn't really amused, Severus smirked inwardly.

_Proud and stubborn as usual_, he thought as he turned away and summoned a house elf from the kitchens for a cup of tea.

As the time neared midnight, Severus looked up from a bit of reading back toward the entrance to his private laboratory. Zoe was still leaning against the door, her legs outstretched in front of her and her arms hidden inside her robes, as she no doubt tried to stay warm. Severus had noticed that over the last hour his daughter had desperately been trying to fight fatigue and was quickly losing the battle—though she did manage to shoot him a dirty look when he sent a warming charm her way.

She still had not uttered a word, however, and he didn't intend to start the conversation this time.

At half past one, he rose from his chair and approached the sleeping eleven-year-old who now lay curled on her side on the cold stones, her head propped awkwardly on her arm. She needed to be in her comfortable bed in the Slytherin dormitory, but Severus knew he couldn't back down on this now. He therefore crouched down and picked his daughter up into his arms. He walked to the large chair before the fire and laid her in it. The girl immediately stretched out a bit as her skin met the lushness of the fabric as he conjured a small pillow for her and delicately pushed it up under her head. He reached down and removed her shoes, placing them on the floor, before taking off his long outer robes and draping them over Zoe to keep her warm.

Resolved with the decision that the two of them would remain in this room together until he had apologized and they had sorted this whole mess out, Severus called on Ollie.

"Mister Severus is calling?" the house elf asked as she bowed low.

"Yes, Ollie, thank you for coming," he whispered, eyeing the chair where Zoe slumbered. "I need you to go to Zoe's room in the girls' wing of the Slytherin dormitory and bring her a change of clothes for tomorrow as well as her school satchel, her cloak, and anything else you believe she may need. Then, if you would, please proceed to my own quarters for similar items: a change of attire and my cloak."

"Why is Miss Zoe not in her bed?" Ollie asked curiously, looking over at the sleeping girl.

"My daughter and I have certain issues to discuss and wish to be left in peace until we have come to a…mutual understanding. Should the Headmistress inquire as to our whereabouts over the weekend, feel free to tell her what I have just said and impart to her that I will seek her out once this has been resolved."

"Yes, Mister Severus. Ollie will do as you ask."

Severus nodded once and the house elf Disapparated with a pop, leaving Severus alone in the quiet, dungeon laboratory with only the crackling of the fire and the slow, rhythmic sound of his daughter's breathing permeating his ears. He walked around slowly to stand before his daughter's chair and gazed down on her.

Even at eleven, there was still the same peaceful innocence in her sleeping features that she had possessed at the age of two. If only the girl could show more of this reserve in her waking hours rather than constantly serving as the catalyst to his more and more frequent headaches.

* * *

><p>Zoe awoke groggily and disoriented the next morning. The ceiling above her was most certainly that of the dungeons, but she was not lying in her bed. Instead, she was curled up on the cushion of a large, plush, red armchair. Judging by the weight of her ensemble Zoe knew she was still in her uniform and school robes, but someone had taken the liberty of removing her shoes and draping a blanket over her.<p>

As she stirred more into the waking world, her nostrils were abruptly assaulted by all manner of smells—a variety of potions ingredients, plants, sea spray, soap and even a light trace of peppermint. Zoe frowned as it occurred to her that these were all the scents she associated with her father. It was then that she suddenly realized that the blanket keeping her warm wasn't a blanket at all, but rather her father's billowy, outer teaching robes and as this realization dawned on her, so did the memories of her encounter with him the night before as well as that of a few days ago. Her anger at him, the humiliation she still felt flared up once more, and all she wanted was to get out of this room as quickly as she could.

She immediately pushed the warm robes off her and allowed them to fall to the floor as she searched around for her wand and shoes. One simple glance to the floor put her mind at ease about the latter items, but it took longer to locate her wand, which she finally found to be stuck between the cushion and the arm of the chair, having dislodged itself from the inner pocket of her robes.

Zoe reached down and put on her Mary Janes before sliding off the edge of the chair and making her way to the exit. She had barely gotten halfway across the room when a door behind her opened and her father walked out carrying a large jar of some sort of powder. Zoe froze where she stood, her eyes shifting between him and the door out into the corridor.

"I think you'll find that any attempt at escape will be just as futile today as it was last night," he said with an air of nonchalance, continuing his stride across the dungeon room.

He walked to one of his workbenches and sat the jar down. Zoe now noticed a large cauldron of some potion or another was brewing. The familiar tools of her father's trade were laid out neatly alongside the cauldron and various vials, jars, and other containers of ingredients lined what Zoe figured was normally an immaculately clean workspace—just like at home.

Scowling at her father's casual, impenitent manner, she walked toward the door to try the handle. It was locked.

"_Alohomora_," she muttered under her breath, tapping her wand to the lock. The door merely glowed for a moment before returning to its ordinary, wooden appearance. Zoe tried the handle again. Still locked.

"Did you think I was lying?" her father asked from behind her.

Zoe turned to meet his gaze, steeling him with as much resentment as she could muster this early in the morning.

"I want to leave," she stated plainly.

"I believe we had this conversation last night," he mocked, walking toward her with his hands clasped behind his back. "It would be a waste of both our times to repeat it."

"Why won't you let me leave?" Zoe asked then, gritting her teeth.

Her father stared down his hooked nose at her for a moment, but didn't answer immediately. Eventually, he turned away from her and to the chair she had vacated. He stooped down and picked his robes up off the floor and, giving them a shake, draped them over the back of the chair. He gave Zoe a disapproving look, but didn't comment on her casual disrespect to his attire.

"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked.

Zoe frowned at his change of subject and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I would like to leave," she stated again more forcefully. She thought that maybe if she continued to repeat herself, eventually she would get through to him.

Her father glanced back at her, annoyed. "Porridge and pumpkin juice it is, then. I will order it. In the meantime, there is a full bathroom through there if you wish to shower this morning," he said, pointing toward the half-open door he had come from moments before and eyeing her resolutely.

Zoe knew that tone of voice. It was worded like a suggestion, but was much more akin to a command. He had given her no choice. She would stay here until he finally fancied to let her go; she would do as he said, when he said it and there would be no point in arguing about it. For as stubborn as Zoe knew she could be, she had learned from the best and the best was currently standing directly before her, eyeing her as authoritatively as she'd ever seen him.

She didn't wholly understand why it felt as if she was being punished when she thought that it was very much her father who was in the wrong in this situation. He was the one who had glimpsed into her mind without permission and it had been he who didn't seem to find any remorse in the act—if his current actions proved anything.

Seething and screeching lowly in frustration, but resigned to the fact that she currently had no other option, Zoe marched toward the door he had indicated. She walked through it and up the corridor but stopped just a few feet in and turned back, put a hand on the still-open door and, with as much strength as she could muster, she slammed it closed. Then she stood solidly for a whole minute waiting for her father to enter in and scream at her for being childish, but no reprimand came so Zoe turned back to look about the new surroundings.

The corridor was small and contained three doors leading off from it. The tiny bathroom was directly in front of her, but Zoe wasn't curious about that. She walked lightly to the door nearest her and turned the handle. The door creaked as she pushed it in and Zoe turned her head toward the corridor exit and listened to make sure her father was not coming in. She didn't hear anything, so she continued to open the door until she could slip inside.

"_Lumos_," she whispered, lighting the end of her wand.

The small room was merely storage for cauldrons, empty ingredients containers, and extra sets of work robes. Zoe was a bit disappointed that it hadn't been anything more exciting as she turned and left. Once back in the corridor, she walked resolutely toward the remaining door and tried to turn the handle, but it was locked.

_That's where he keeps his supplies,_ Zoe silently reckoned, storing that information away for later as she turned and headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Finding that her father had somehow managed to secure her some undergarments, a pair of jeans, her pink and grey argyle jumper, and a plain, black, wizard robe as well as her toothbrush, she started the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she reemerged, her hair damp, to find that her father had apparently finished the potion he had been brewing. He now sat in one of the conjured chairs by the fire and was sipping from a teacup and reading the newspaper. Zoe pounded her feet into the flagstones as she trudged over to stand before him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him until he finally acknowledged her presence. He put the paper aside.

Pulling his wand from his sleeve, her father dried her hair with a simple wave. This was a typical gesture he made, but today it was unwanted by his daughter. She fumed.

"Don't do that," Zoe said. "Put it back the way it was."

"You want me to dampen your hair again?" His tone was incredulous.

"Yes. I'm not a baby. I don't need you to dry it for me."

"I've always dried your hair for you."

"I don't care. Put it back," she seethed.

Her father stared at her sternly for a moment then shook his head. "I will not. Not only because you've fractiously demanded it of me but because the dungeons are too cool for you to be traipsing around with wet hair."

"Then let me out of the dungeons."

"No," was all he said to that forceful request, rising from his chair. "Your breakfast is being kept warm over on the workbench."

"I'm not hungry," Zoe said, as her stomach gave a low grumble.

Her father raised a single eyebrow at her. "I think you've just been proven a liar."

Zoe frowned, annoyed by her traitorous body.

"Eat your breakfast," he commanded as he went back to the other side of the room and began preparing ingredients for some other potion.

Zoe watched him with her eyes. Her stomach grumbled again and she looked longingly toward the tray of porridge and toast on the opposite workbench from her father, but she would not eat it. No, that would just be giving in to what he wanted and she did not intend to give him that kind of satisfaction.

So instead, Zoe crossed the room and grabbed up her rucksack, which had been placed on the floor next to the door, and walked to the workbench. She pulled out a stool to sit on then opened up her History of Magic textbook and began reading. She was already four chapters ahead in that class, but the only assignment she had left to do for the next week was her essay in Defense Against the Dark Arts and she didn't really feel like working on it in present company.

Several times, she saw her father turn to glance at her. He must have noticed that she hadn't touched her breakfast despite it sitting mere inches from her and Zoe could see the almost-worried expression of his furrowed brow through the veil of her long eyelashes.

Over three hours later, she had finished two more long chapters on yet another goblin rebellion. She was thoroughly bored with history. Fidgeting on the hard stool and trying to ignore the dull ache of her food-deprived stomach, Zoe looked briefly up to her father who was hunched over a potions text, writing copious notes on a piece of parchment to his right. The concoction he had been brewing was simmering over a low flame at the back of the workbench and he was apparently reading over the instructions for his next brew, which he would prepare while the other potion matured in its cauldron.

Zoe pretended to read as she watched her father go to his storeroom and bring back several different ingredients from frog's eyes and sopophorous beans to lacewing flies and even common garlic. She would have been lying to herself if she had said she wasn't curious as to what he was about to brew. She drew herself up onto the stool in order to see a bit better and as she placed her foot on the rung beneath her, her shoe slipped and, before she knew it, she was crashing to the stone floor as the stool toppled over on top of her. Zoe winced as her elbow came down hard onto the flagstones as she attempted to break her fall.

"Have you injured yourself?" her father asked, standing over her now with a concerned expression on his face.

"What do you care?" she grumbled crossly.

Embarrassed and angry, she stood—ignoring her father's offered hand—and righted the stool. Before she could plop down onto it, however, her father grabbed her hurt elbow and Zoe knew that there was no way that he didn't see her wince in pain.

"I care if you've injured yourself, as you obviously have," he said simply, pushing the sleeve of her robes and jumper up, exposing an already-forming bruise on her elbow.

He pulled out his wand, set it lightly against the darkening skin of her arm, and began to mutter under his breath. After a few moments, he stopped his incantation and the pressure of his wand was no longer painful. Almost instantly, Zoe pulled away from him forcefully and sat back on her stool, pulling her book back toward her.

Her father sighed heavily and walked back to his own workbench in a huff.

Lunchtime came and Zoe refused to eat the vegetable soup that was placed in front of her by one of the Hogwarts house elves who commented on the fact that she hadn't eaten her porridge before turning worried eyes up to Zoe's father.

"Zoe, eat," he commanded.

Zoe glared at him and he stared solidly back. Averting her eyes from his after over a minute of stalemate, she picked up the spoon and gulped a single mouthful of the broth of the soup before pushing the bowl away.

"I'm finished," she said to the house elf who nodded reluctantly and took the bowl away as Zoe looked defiantly at her father.

"Starve, then. Be a martyr for your little cause. But don't expect me to waste a dose of Strengthening Solution on this nonsense or to have any sympathy when you pass out from low blood sugar or a lack of nutrients," her father said, ripping apart a piece of bread to dip in his own soup.

Zoe narrowed her eyes at him and went back to staring blankly at her history book, which she was thoroughly bored with.

"As if you ever have any sympathy," she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?" her father asked.

"Nothing," she spat back. "Nothing at all."

The afternoon wore on endlessly, Zoe thought. She had finally given up reading and had instead shifted her concentration to doodling on spare bits of parchment from her rucksack and levitating various small objects in her line of sight. Her father continued to brew and bottle potion after potion, pausing from time to time to give her an exasperated glare.

Zoe wanted desperately to do something different. At this point, even a conversation with her haughty ex-roommate or a detention with the caretaker seemed preferable to this. As much as she wanted to believe her father wasn't holding her hostage, Zoe felt very much like a prisoner in this dark, dungeon room.

"Is there not something more productive you could be doing?" he asked suddenly from across the room.

Zoe glanced up at him from her spot on the floor in front of the fireplace. She had recently started wadding up the parchment pieces and flicking them into the fire to watch them hiss and recoil as the fire turned them to ash.

"Not really," she replied, shrugging.

"No homework?" he asked then.

"Most of it's finished."

"Well, why don't you do what isn't finished?" her father said, annoyance evident in his tone.

"I don't really feel like doing it right now," she said, feigning a sigh. She had her head bowed down as if focused on the next parchment wad, but her eyes were looking up through her eyelashes to gauge her father's reaction. She knew he would get the clue that her only homework was his. "It doesn't seem too important anyway," she stabbed further.

He looked angry, for sure, but Zoe couldn't really tell if it was because of her audacity or her apathy toward completing her schoolwork. It was probably both.

"I will not accept a poorly-written essay from you," he said after several silent moments.

Zoe frowned and looked up. "Why not? You take them from everyone else."

"I do not hold the other students to as high a standard."

"Big bloody surprise," Zoe mumbled disdainfully.

"_Language_," her father warned.

Zoe rolled her eyes at the floor.

An hour of silence later, her father left his brew and approached her at the hearth.

"What would you like for dinner?" he asked.

Zoe actually looked up at him then and decided to try her earlier tactic.

"I would like to eat in the Great Hall."

"Too bad you will not be," her father snapped, obviously anticipating her response. "What would you like to eat here?"

"Nothing. I'm not hungry," she huffed. She was getting really frustrated with this situation. Why couldn't he just let her go? Didn't he realize that she wasn't going to be cooperative? That this game…or hostage situation or…whatever it was, was futile?

Her father stared down at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I am exhausted with this protest. It is foolish, unhealthy, and unnecessary. You _will_ eat something," he said with conviction.

"That's what _you_ think," Zoe retorted rebelliously, but she immediately regretted her bold statement, as her father reached down and pulled her to her feet. He leaned down to look her right in the eye.

"Oh, I don't _think_ you will eat. I _know_ you will," he stated confidently and, before Zoe could even anticipate it, he'd reached around her to deliver a searing smack to the back of her thigh—causing her to yelp and her eyes to widen in surprise and shock—then he held both her arms firmly, hindering any struggle.

Not that there was any; Zoe was much too taken aback by his actions to even think about wriggling out of his grasp. If his aim had been to direct her attention to his authority, he'd certainly done so. Zoe now knew very well who had the upper hand—both figuratively and literally—in this situation. It just wasn't fair.

"I have had _quite_ _enough_ of your cheek today," he stated coldly as he bent at his waist in order to be more on an even level with her. He shook her as he spoke. "I understand that you have a grievance with me, but you are going to learn to hold your tongue and show proper respect in spite of your anger."

"Why?" Zoe asked boldly into his face, getting over the initial shock. However, the physical chastisement had done nothing to curb her impertinence and had only worked to enhance her rage at him. Her voice shook only slightly as she tried to ignore the lingering sting on her bum. "_You_ never do."

Her father stood fully upright then and released her. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. He seemed not only highly agitated, but also a bit tired.

"I have lost my patience, Zoe," he threatened, talking slow and through gritted teeth, his tone a low, menacing warning. "Cease the effrontery now or—" His jaw tightened as he cut himself off and Zoe could tell that he was doing his best not to completely lose his temper with her. "Just…_stop_. That's enough."

Zoe remained quiet, grinding her teeth together and doing her best to stem the tears that were burning the backs of her eyes. A defiant voice in the back of her mind wanted very much to ask "or what?" but a much more reasonable one told her that it wouldn't be a good idea at that moment—that such a challenge to his tolerance would cost her much more than she would gain.

"What would you like to eat for dinner?" her father asked again when Zoe had remained silent. He did loom over her, however, daring her to test him with further impudence and obstinacy.

Zoe hated that he had so much control over her. She turned away from his reproachful glare.

"Whatever you're having is fine," she said quietly, looking at her father's boots and feeling like a traitor to her own resolve.

She didn't really pay attention as he called upon the same house elf that had brought their lunch—Todd—and ordered them a meal of pork chops and potatoes and vegetables. She ate her fill of what was placed in front of her without complaint or cheek, but in silence, barely tasting any of it. As the day drew to a close and there was still no indication that her father was going to release her to her dormitory to sleep, she changed into the pajamas she had found with her spare clothes in the bathroom earlier, brushed her teeth, and curled up in the chair she had slept in the night before.

She could feel her father's eyes on her as she pulled her legs in tighter to her in order to stay a bit warmer. Pulling his wand from his robes, he stood and conjured a blanket then walked over and spread it across her. Zoe frowned and turned her back to him. As he strode back to his chair, she made a point of pushing the blanket onto the floor. She didn't get to see his reaction, but she assumed it was annoyed and slightly frustrated, but she didn't care. She drifted off to sleep cold, but determined to show her father that his kindness didn't matter to her. He needed to see that she wasn't going to be tricked into forgiving him for what he had done.

After the night's events, Zoe couldn't help but feel even more betrayed than before. First, there was the mind reading and now the show of power. It just wasn't right that he could be angry and belligerent one minute and the next act as if he actually cared. It was two-faced and confusing and Zoe didn't like it one bit. Plus, the fact that he wouldn't let her be equally as nasty was hypocritical and unfair for she couldn't discipline her father the way he did her when he was disrespectful or did something wrong.

So, for the fourth night in a row, Zoe fell asleep angry and resentful of her father.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*sighs* Oh, Sev... try not to judge him too much until you read the resolution. And sorry for ANOTHER cliffhanger. <em>**

**_And please take note: I only send out awesome, sunny California vibes to those who review. No review, no vibes. Full stop. So review! Sunny California vibes are the BEST vibes. ;)_**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**


	17. Scorn: Part II

_**I told you all that I would try not to leave you waiting too long for this update, so here it is. I really hope you enjoy it!**_

_**I just wanted to not that the next few chapters should be coming a bit quick considering they are mostly written, but I also wanted to warn that the next few chapters will cover a lot in a relatively short period of time for Severus and Zoe, but it's all pretty important for what's to come, so bear with me. Personally, I don't think any of it will be boring, but I can't speak for everyone's tastes. Basically, it'll be some stuff that is fun for me to write intermingled with some very pertinent information that will move the story forward. **_

**_Okay, I will stop blathering on now. Enjoy._**

* * *

><p><strong>The Scorn of a Strong-Willed Young Witch: Part II<strong>

"I don't know where she ever learned such brazenness, such disrespect. Her behavior in my presence has been absolutely appalling. Her cheek, her insubordination, and…"

"Oh yes, because there is absolutely no way she could have picked it up from you," Minerva replied dryly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Severus had been fuming in the Headmistress's office for nearly half an hour now, recounting his day with his daughter in the dungeons. Apparently, as soon as Zoe had fallen asleep, he had quietly exited his laboratory, re-warded the door, and made his way up the stairs. The way Minerva understood it, he had been frustrated with the girl all day—from her protests to her temper to her defiance. Then, he had watched as his only child boldly rejected his offered blanket and chose to freeze rather than accept anything from him, and he had known then that he desperately needed some counsel in order to get anywhere with her.

Therefore, he had sought out Minerva who had since been listening raptly with an expression of mixed sadness and exasperation on her face. Over the last few days, she was cynically starting to believe that this would become her legacy as Headmistress: playing the intermediary in all conflicts between her Defense professor and his daughter.

However, Severus had spent more time venting about the vexing actions of his eleven-year-old while simultaneously expounding a torrent of self-loathing for disciplining her than actually trying to come to a solution as to how he was supposed to remedy the situation.

"She's never driven me to such a state of ill-temper…" He carded his hand through his hair anxiously.

"I'll admit, you _have_ chosen a rather unorthodox tactic in order to seek an audience with her," said Minerva. "Did you not expect her to push back a bit?"

"Of course, I've lost my temper with her before, but never have I manhandled her so…"

"Severus, it's not the end of the world."

The man simply wasn't listening no matter how much she tried to diminish his worry. Minerva shook her head as Severus persisted in his pacing of her office.

"I have— she _knows_ _better_ than to speak to me that way," he continued, talking to himself. "I never thought I'd have to resort to— I didn't think she would… I never intended to strike her, Minerva. Not over this—most certainly not in anger as I did. She just…" He was so flustered; he couldn't even explain himself properly.

"Yes, I doubt that improved the situation," Minerva said disapprovingly. "_But_, on the other hand, from what you've said so far, it seems to me as if she spent the day asking for it. I wouldn't worry too much. Zoe's intelligent and despite the situation, I am more than certain that she knew what she was doing was disrespectful and was unlikely to be tolerated for long, yet she still chose to challenge you anyway."

Severus collapsed into one of the chairs opposite the Headmistress. "It's just that. My childhood was… well, my own father wasn't exactly what you would call loving, or even civil for that matter. Questioning him in any way, even if he was in the wrong was, well…unwise. He was brash and… abusive and…"

Minerva sensed where he was going with this. She stood and came around the desk, placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. She knew he didn't even want to go there; to think that Zoe would suffer at his hands the way he had suffered at his father's. He had never wanted to become Tobias Snape.

"And you're neither. Severus, you are a good father. You could never inflict upon Zoe what your father inflicted upon you."

"Couldn't I?" he asked, his tired eyes looking skeptically up into hers. "My father never had the capacity to delve into my innermost thoughts. No, I have done much worse to her."

Minerva inclined her head. "Perhaps, but that depends solely on one's perspective of the matter. Look at it like this: you are clearly remorseful and deeply afflicted by your actions and you are trying to reach out to your daughter in a way that your father never did you. Do you believe he would have been so fretful in the same situation?"

Severus scowled, leveling fierce eyes on his employer. "My child has found me wanting and untrustworthy, Minerva—neglectful even. Now, I've gone and pushed her farther away by losing my patience and temper with her, by unduly _striking_ her. Despite what you may think, I _have_ become my father."

"Oh, you gave her a little smack for an impertinent comment after a day filled with disrespect and defiance. I hardly think that's an unheard of response among parents. And you haven't been neglectful. You're far from wanting and…" She pointed a stern finger at the wizard. "I don't want to hear you compare yourself to that man ever again, Severus Snape," Minerva chastised. "Zoe adores you and always has. Frankly, I believe that this behavior—her unwillingness to be reasonable in this situation—stems from the fact that she's grown up rather spoiled."

When Severus opened his mouth to protest, Minerva held up a hand to halt him.

"Let me finish… It is by no fault of yours or hers, really. It's merely the way of things. She hasn't been pampered and overindulged nor have you been exceptionally lax in your discipline, it is simply that Zoe is an only child being raised in a single parent household. She is used to having your full attention. Therefore, when your business began to boom, she became just as jealous of it as if it had been a new sibling; thus, her acting out."

"Why wouldn't she have just said something?" Severus asked then with a tone of aggravation. "Most of the time, she conveys an astonishing amount of independence—she has since she was small. And as she's grown older, the less and less she wants Ollie or me to assist her with things, so I always assumed she was adjusting to the changes well. Why the use of these petty, _dangerous_, attention-seeking situations?"

Minerva gave her Defense professor a pointed look. "She's grown older and she is quite independent, yes, but she's still only a child, Severus. Though you may speak to her as if she's thirty-five years old, she has a different view of affection than an adult. With maturity she will come to understand that the amount of time spent with a person does not necessarily equate to the amount of love that person is capable of giving, but for now, when she feels she is being overlooked, she will act out in order to gain the attention she longs for—whether it be positive or negative. It's just something children do."

Minerva paused, redirecting herself from her tangent.

"But all of that is in the past. After all, despite you both dealing with the ramifications now, these incidences with the potions happened quite some time ago, if I'm not mistaken. This also makes me certain that Zoe has already matured significantly and therefore understands you and your commitment to her and your business better, considering she hasn't continued to muck up potions on purpose. What you need to focus on, now, is talking this through so that she understands that you made a mistake and then start rebuilding the trust from there."

Severus was quiet for several moments. "I can't even reach her, Minerva," he said, his tone soft, filled with a sadness that the Headmistress had only heard once, maybe twice before. "She won't let me."

Minerva nodded and walked back to her seat, thinking pensively. After a few minutes, she looked at Severus.

"Perhaps you need to stop fighting her back," she said.

Severus's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Zoe is your daughter—" Minerva began.

"Thank you. I am well aware of that," Severus snapped.

Minerva frowned at the interruption, but pushed on. "No, I mean she is _your_ daughter. You two are so alike you can't help but bump heads—Merlin forbid either of you actually _tell_ the other how you're feeling. You're constantly putting each other on the defensive and therefore can't clearly see what the other is trying to accomplish or hear what you're each trying to say. Zoe feels like her trust in you has been betrayed so she defends herself by punishing you in the only way that a child her age knows how: with petulance, silence, defiance, and cheek. But in this situation, you, Severus, have an enormous advantage because you are the parent and, acting as such, you try to put an immediate end to her antics. Perhaps, you should stop."

Severus frowned. "And just let her get away with speaking to me the way that she has? Or let her refuse to eat or do her schoolwork? I should simply allow her to kick and hit me and disrespect me bodily?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, the physical disrespect is intolerable, but other than that, you said it yourself: Zoe knows better. And she's normally a very agreeable child. She isn't going to turn into some uncontrollable delinquent simply because you take no notice of _some_ of her comments and actions. I think it's time that you start choosing your battles with her. Otherwise, you're going to run yourself mad before she even hits her teenage years."

Severus looked skeptical.

Minerva began again, "You may not approve of her behavior, but you cannot deny that you have earned her scorn in this situation. Every bit of spite and resentment she feels toward you now has been wholly deserved because you violated the privacy of her mind, Severus. You've conveyed to her through your use of Legilimency that her thoughts and feelings are not her own to hold onto should she wish it. And she knows, inherently, that it was wrong of you to do this. Therefore, she needs to _show_ you how truly, uncontrollably angry she is with you before she can start the process of forgiveness and she can't show you that if you continue to punish her for these little, insignificant infractions of disrepute. Only once she's let it out, once she's been allowed to be genuinely furious with you, will she be calm and rational enough to listen to you and see how truly sorry you are. And, perhaps if you go against your instincts to rage in frustration, remain calm yourself, and explain the situation to her, she will, in turn, explain the reasoning behind her actions as well."

Severus had a look on his face that conveyed to Minerva that he thought the logic made some sense.

"So I should just…put up with her tantrums and disrespect because she needs to let her anger out?"

"Yes. And tell her you're sorry," Minerva said sternly.

"Of course," replied Severus, nodding.

"Severus. Tell her you love her."

Severus stared at Minerva for a few moments.

"Zoe knows that."

"_Tell_ her you love her," Minerva repeated forcefully. "Children need to hear their parents say it and something tells me it has been quite some time since Zoe heard those words from you."

Severus inclined his head in compliance.

They sat for a few more moments as Severus's worry continued to be readable on his face.

"Thank you, Headmistress," he said suddenly, standing. "I really must be getting back. I do not wish for Zoe to awake and find me absent. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Severus."

As the door to the Headmistress's office closed and the sound of the rotating staircase ground as Severus descended, Minerva sighed heavily and sat back in her chair.

"Am I to understand that the young Miss Snape has not only a fierce temper, but a flair for the dramatic?" the portrait of Dumbledore asked mirthfully above Minerva's head.

The headmistress stared, concerned, toward the door where her Defense professor had just exited.

"Oh, yes. She has always been _very_ _much_ her father's daughter—to his obvious chagrin. But, whereas he was always rather sullen as a child, she is quite outgoing, engaging, and kind. In a few years she'll be giving her father a run for his money in scholastic merit, I'm sure of it. And she doesn't hold grudges as Severus does. Well, not against anyone but him, I suppose. She's truly a remarkable child."

"I think I would like to formally meet her, have a conversation."

Minerva turned and looked up at the belated Headmaster.

"Yes, I'm sure you would, Albus. And you may get your chance. No doubt, she will seek me out soon no matter which way this goes with her and Severus. I only hope she doesn't come here begging to stay with me during the holidays. Severus would be devastated."

"Well, then let's hope the tactic you advised works," Dumbledore replied.

Minerva nodded and made her way to her quarters though she firmly believed that worry of the conflict between her goddaughter and her Defense professor would keep her awake well into the early hours of the morning.

* * *

><p>Severus reentered the lab to find Zoe snuggled up to the back of her over-large chair, asleep, but clearly doing everything she could to stay warm in the dank chill of the dungeon room. He approached her, bringing up the fire with a sweep of his wand, and picked up the blanket he had conjured from the floor. He held it in his hands.<p>

His daughter had been defiant and disrespectful all day and, under normal circumstances, he may not have dwelled on the discipline he had handed her so much. Of course, under normal circumstances, he was certain Zoe wouldn't have pushed him so far in the first place, for she rarely did.

It was true what Minerva had said that he hadn't really allowed Zoe to express her feelings toward what he had done to her and, of course, he had yet to tell her he was sorry.

And he was truly sorry. He had done horrible things in his life, stood by as others did horrible things and, though he'd certainly felt disgusted with himself then and now for those actions, he had never felt nearly as remorseful as he did for hurting his little girl.

He knew his daughter was hurting terribly and somehow, Severus felt as if he should have been more patient with her. This line of reasoning brought him right back around to where he'd been at the beginning, however: ashamed of himself for allowing all of this to get so out of hand. He was ashamed that he had allowed his own, idiotic thoughts to supersede his judgment and ashamed that Zoe was the one paying the price for it.

Severus sighed heavily as he did his best to push past his guilt for the moment; he could deal with that particular emotion later. For now, he needed to heed Minerva's advice and focus on his daughter's bruised and betrayed heart, to try to salvage what he could of his relationship with her.

He looked down at the blanket in his hands. He had made it as soft and warm as he knew how. With any hope, Zoe wouldn't dispel it in the middle of the night.

As he watched his daughter shiver in her sleep, Severus placed the blanket over her, tucked it up all the way to her chin, and ensured that her feet were completely covered. He didn't know how this situation was going to pan out for him, but as he leaned down and brushed a light kiss to his daughter's temple, he knew that it would have to come to a head tomorrow, for better or for worse.

* * *

><p>Zoe awoke the next morning in much the same way that she had the day before—slightly disoriented until a flood of memories overcame her—and she was instantly bombarded with the want to flee. This morning, however, she was surprised to see that her father still slept in the chair adjacent to hers. He was sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him, his right ankle crossed over the left and still fully clothed in his typical black ensemble, though he had shed his outer robes and unbuttoned his frock coat to reveal the white linen shirt beneath; he was even still wearing his boots. His arms were laying over each of the chair arms and his head was tilted against the back cushion while his mouth hung open issuing copious, deafening snores into the room. Zoe was surprised that she had been able to sleep at all with that racket.<p>

Taking full advantage of her father's unconsciousness, not even taking the time to change out of her pajamas, she quietly slid her Charms book and her wand from her book bag and approached the door to the laboratory. When she got there, she sat down on the cold flagstones and started flipping through the pages looking for a stronger unlocking spell. There was _Alohomora_ explained right there in chapter seven of _The_ _Standard_ _Book_ _of_ _Spells_, and another spell that unlocked nothing but diaries.

_What rubbish. Why is that even in here?_ Zoe wondered as she flipped to the index. But she found nothing. There was simply no spell to be found in a first-year text that could circumvent her father's advanced locking charm.

Frustrated, Zoe stood then and tiptoed to one of the shelves in the room. Surely, her father had a book that could tell her how to unlock the door…

She started reading the spines, but all of them were potions books and therefore wouldn't be of any use to her. She imagined all his books on other subjects were in his quarters or his office upstairs or were otherwise left at home in his study or the sitting room. Zoe grew frustrated and she looked into the fire.

_The_ _fire!_ she suddenly remembered. Perhaps there was some Floo powder around somewhere and she could Floo into the Slytherin common room or maybe Minerva's office. Either way, it would get her out of here and away from her father.

As quietly as she could, she searched through every single cabinet and shelf in the room but she couldn't find any trace of the magical powder. Stepping down off a stool where she had been searching on a shelf above one of her father's workbenches, Zoe steeled one more cautious glance at the man snoring in the chair before slowly tiptoeing into the storage corridor.

She made her way to the door on the left and tried the handle. It was locked, just as it had been the day before. As she had gone through cabinet after cabinet in the other room, Zoe couldn't help but assume that if her father had any Floo powder in the laboratory at all, he probably kept it locked in his storage room and brought it out only when he needed it for correspondences and such. And, as she once again pulled out her wand, Zoe figured she was mad to think that her father would seal this door with a simple _Colloportus_ when he could easily use the charm he had used on the main entrance.

Nonetheless, Zoe pointed her wand at the handle and whispered, "_Alohomora_." She was utterly surprised when the lock clicked and the door swung in slightly. Glancing back at the door out to the lab, Zoe pushed the storage door open and slid inside, closing it behind her.

This room was unlike the other room that had held the spare cauldrons. First, as she entered, two torches on either side of the door blazed to life as did two more opposite her and thus there was no need for her to light her wand. This room was also twice as big and twice as tall as the other room—magically enlarged, no doubt—but magnificently so. A tall, wooden ladder ran on an oval track above her head that would give her father three hundred and sixty degrees of access to the shelves that covered the walls all the way up to the ceiling. And every single shelf was nearly full of ingredients and finished potions alike and, though a closer look would tell her for sure, Zoe imagined everything was perfectly categorized and inventoried, knowing her father's meticulous nature.

Truly, Zoe was intrigued and wanted to look around, but she had come for something specific. Figuring her father would probably keep the Floo powder somewhere he could easily access it if he needed it, she stuck to searching the lower shelves; the beckoning ingredients and potions of the upper shelves would have to wait for another time.

Starting nearest the door and working her way back, Zoe found that she had to keep making herself stay on task as each new label interested her. She wanted to read every single one, but she didn't have time for that.

Kneeling down about halfway across the room, Zoe had just picked up a small, dull-green box that looked similar to the box she had seen Floo powder in at the apothecary in Diagon Alley, when a resounding crash startled her. She looked toward the source of the sound and found her father standing in the entrance to his storeroom. He had obviously thrown the door open in his haste to locate her whereabouts and he was now staring at her sternly.

Zoe stood slowly and eyed her father with caution. He hadn't exactly told her that she wasn't to come into this room, but she knew that it had been implied by the locking charm on the door. She didn't know what he would do to her but, so far, he hadn't said anything or made any move to throw her out. She stared at him, trying to figure out his mood and trembling only slightly with trepidation, when her father swiftly moved to the side of the door and raised his hand, indicating to her to exit out into the corridor.

She slowly started forward, keeping her eyes locked to her father's face, but quickened her pace the nearer she got, hoping she could slip through without him grabbing her. Just as she had nearly gotten past him, he spoke.

"Bezoars," he said dully, and Zoe stopped in her tracks to look up at him.

He was holding out his hand to her and it was then that she realized she was still clutching the green box which she now saw indeed said contained bezoars. She lifted the box up and placed it in her father's outstretched hand before darting away, out the door and back into the laboratory, wishing more than anything that she was not here now.

A moment later, her father also reemerged from the corridor. He stopped just past the doorway and looked at Zoe. Some of his initial anger—or worry, maybe—seemed to have dissipated slightly.

He strode forward and as he started to reach out toward her, Zoe, thinking of the smack he'd given her the night before, instinctually took a step backward, flinching away from him. Her father halted mid-step and Zoe saw what appeared to be hurt in his eyes for a split second. He took another step forward—with less urgency this time—and pulled her hands up to examine them.

"Did you touch anything besides the bezoars?" he asked, leaning forward and bringing her hands to his nose to smell them. "Or perhaps come into contact with anything moist?"

Zoe remained silent. Of course, she hadn't touched anything moist. She wasn't a dunderhead and her father knew it. She'd been raised around potions and she had learned long ago not to touch or even smell anything of which she wasn't familiar.

In lieu of an answer, she jerked her hands out of her father's grasp and took another step backward. Her father's eyes narrowed.

"What were you looking for?" he asked. He stepped toward her again, this time reaching around under her hair to clutch the nape of her neck with one hand to check for fever while simultaneously using his other to lift one of Zoe's eyelids, checking for dilation. Zoe struggled with him for a moment, trying to loosen his hold on her and eventually she managed to pull away again. She didn't want to be so close to her father and she was quickly becoming agitated by his babying.

"I wasn't looking for anything," she immediately lied.

Her father frowned and cocked his head to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest. A momentary flash in his eyes made Zoe aware that he knew she was lying and that he was very much trying to rein in his temper as he took a deep breath.

"I don't want you in that room without me to accompany you," he said calmly, but firmly.

Zoe's eyes grew wide with confusion—she had been certain he would rage at her—but she quickly shook it off as she was overcome with relief. She nodded her understanding and watched as her father turned and walked back to his chair and sat in it. She too walked over and sat down, still eyeing her father with confusion and suspicion.

Not long after, he ordered breakfast for the both of them and, though she was wary of doing it lest she anger him, Zoe refused to eat once again. However, her father barely acknowledged her protest this time but for a disapproving frown as he sipped his coffee and spread jam onto a piece of toast.

She watched him from her chair. Zoe would have been lying to herself if she didn't concede that the change in her father's demeanor was a bit disconcerting. Though her goal was the same as the day before, she thought that perhaps a change in her own tactics was warranted.

"Can I—"

"_May_ I," her father corrected as he cut a sausage.

Zoe glared at him. "_May_ I go back to my dormitory now?" she asked, trying her hardest to keep her tone as neutral as possible.

He chewed his breakfast, but from the expression on his face, Zoe was hard pressed to figure out whether he had even heard her, much less whether he was considering her request. He wiped his mouth with a napkin then turned his eyes on her.

"No."

It was the simplest answer. Zoe frowned.

"Why?"

"You know why."

Zoe threw her hands into the air. "This is stupid!" she shouted, slumping down into her chair and staring into the fire.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father merely shrug—_shrug_—and continue with his breakfast. This was infuriating.

"I want to leave," she demanded for what felt like the thousandth time already.

Her father politely laid his fork and knife aside and sat back in his own chair then crossed his arms over his chest. The two glared solidly at each other.

"I am going to make this very plain: you aren't going anywhere until I have released you. I will not release you until we have talked this through and I am satisfied that you understand all of the implications of the situation," he said.

Zoe could feel her temper rising. "Can't you see that I don't want to be here with you?" she fumed.

"Yes, you have made your opinion abundantly clear."

"Then why won't you let me go?!" Zoe threw her arms into the air again. "Oh, right, because you don't _care_!"

She turned away from the wizard just as her tears started to flow. She brushed them away as discretely as possible before turning back to look at her father who seemed at a loss for what to say to her. He stood suddenly and started to walk around as if the movement helped him to think more clearly. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

Zoe stared into the fire for the minutes that passed in silence, barely registering her father's slow pace of the opposite side of the room or the fact that his eyes remained on her. Eventually, he approached his chair and sat down on the edge of it, still watching her.

"Why are you holding me hostage?" she spat out angrily, not being able to contain it anymore.

"Stop being so dramatic," he snapped. Then, calmer: "I am not holding you hostage; I am merely demanding your attention."

"Same thing," Zoe huffed.

"It is not. Now, I have been trying to speak with you about what you experienced in the Charms classroom the other day, but you have been making it increasingly difficult for me to do so."

"I wonder why that is?" Zoe shot back defiantly, unconcerned about where her lack of respect had led her the night before.

Her father narrowed his eyes, but ultimately ignored her insolent question before continuing on.

"Your godmother believed that I needed to give you time to yourself, to let you work out your feelings on the matter," he said, "but it became quite apparent that you were going to remain upset with me until I took a more drastic approach."

Zoe stared lividly at her father, not really caring for his reasoning one bit. After all, he deserved for her to be angry with him. Her father sighed heavily.

"Zoe," he began again, softer. "we may be doing this under my circumstances, but I will wait until you are ready to talk to me about it—rationally and respectfully. I will not rush you and I will not coerce you. But we are going to remain here in this laboratory, together, until we have had this out."

Zoe could feel her features softening, but when she saw a fleeting, hopeful look cross into her father's eyes, she frowned again and sat back in her chair as her pride got the best of her. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him. No, he didn't deserve to have her talking to him. Not after the Charms classroom, not after last night, not ever. Silence was best to teach him a lesson.

Apparently catching on to her message, her father stood and looked down on her.

"I see you've resorted back to the silent treatment. Childish, but…fine," he said, a high level of irritation palpable in his tone. "I will be brewing for the better part of the day as I did yesterday and I know for sure that you have homework to finish. When you are ready, we will talk."

He strode resolutely toward his storeroom and out of sight. Zoe huffed again.

The morning went by slowly as her father continued his list of potions to be brewed and Zoe once more took up her seat at the opposite workbench with her Defense textbook this time. She felt she was giving in slightly to her father, but she chose not to work on her essay, and instead turned to a chapter several weeks into the syllabus and began reading about boggarts. Nearly halfway through the chapter, her father spoke.

"That is not the chapter I assigned for this week," he observed dryly.

Zoe didn't even look up at him. "It's more interesting than the chapter you assigned, _Professor_," she said offhandedly, staring down at her book. After several moments of silence, her father continued.

"Perhaps, but it will not help you with your essay. You should stick to chapter nine."

Zoe looked up then, defiance written in her every feature. She noticed immediately that her father wore a deep scowl on his face and that his eyes blazed, but that was hardly going to deter her.

"Essay? I don't recall," she said sarcastically.

Her father took a step toward her then, but stopped himself. It appeared as if there was something he wanted to say to her, but had held it in. He closed his eyes, willing patience, then turned and went back to his workbench.

That was odd. Zoe had never seen her father do that before. She had openly defied him and he wasn't going to do anything about it? What was wrong with him?

As the hours ticked by in silence, Zoe was getting tired of the tedium of the dungeon laboratory. She didn't feel that the time she was spending here with her father was making any sort of difference and she desperately wanted out. It had become quite apparent to her that, although he had said he was waiting on her to talk to him, he was not going to show any kind of remorse for what he had done. All he'd done since bringing her here was yell and threaten her and exert his authority over her and Zoe was tired of it.

Relishing in a wave of boldness that surged through her at that moment, Zoe slammed her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook closed and was inwardly pleased to see that she had startled her father with her sudden action. He looked over at her, perplexed, and Zoe stood from her stool and stared at him.

"I need to go to the library," she stated.

Her father picked up his wand and placed some sort of spell over the cauldron he was working at and turned to face her.

"You are not going," he said calmly.

"I have research to do."

"What research? You said it yourself that your only remaining homework assignment for next week is your essay for Defense and, considering I assigned it, believe me when I say that it can be written using your textbook and your notes from class."

Zoe was starting to get angry.

"Maybe I want to use other sources."

"That isn't necessary."

"Maybe I want to use them anyway!"

"You are not leaving."

Zoe was getting herself worked up now. All the frustration at her father's refusal to release her and her anger at him for reading her mind was building up now.

"Let. Me. _Go_," she seethed.

"No matter how many times you demand it, the answer is going to be the same until after we have talked."

Zoe was only vaguely aware of the sudden breeze that had started to flutter her hair about as she stared at her father, clenching and unclenching her fists.

In what seemed like an instant, he had crossed over to her and grabbed both her arms in his hands; he held her strongly, but without the force or pain of the previous night. His face was contorted in a mixture of austerity and concern as he looked down on her.

Suddenly, one of the cauldrons he had been working with started to melt as the contents within poured out over the workbench and onto the floor. Zoe now realized that her magic was spiraling out of control, but she hardly cared or even considered trying to stop it as her father waved his wand to contain the potions mess before turning back to her and shaking her slightly.

"Stop this now," he ordered urgently, leaning down to look her in the eyes. "Control yourself."

"No!" she shouted. "I'm tired of you always telling me what to do!"

"I am your father!"

"_So_ _what_! I wish you _weren't_! I wish Mum was here instead of you! She wouldn't have…"

Tears had started to flood down Zoe's cheeks and she was suddenly finding it much more difficult to breathe. Every emotion she had felt raging inside of her that had been screaming to come out at her father was suddenly doing so and she couldn't stop it now even if she had wanted to. She tried desperately to wriggle out of her father's grasp, but he was holding her firmly, suddenly pulling her toward him.

"Let go!" she shouted at him as she heard the unmistakable sound of cracking glass from all over the room as jars and vials cracked under the pressure her magic was causing. Her father held on tight and continued to pull her closer to him, but Zoe struggled with all her might against him.

"Mum wouldn't have done what you did!"

She didn't really know why she said that. She had never even known her mother and, aside from the fact that her mother was a Muggle and wouldn't have had the ability to do what her father had done, Zoe most certainly didn't know what her mother would or wouldn't have done to her.

But judging by his expression, her words seemed to wound her father and Zoe felt a sick sort of satisfaction in that.

"You're right, she wouldn't have. Your mother would never have hurt anyone, but most especially you," he stated still calmer and that calm—confusing and so unlike him—for some reason angered Zoe even more. She wanted him to hurt as much as he had hurt her so she did the only thing that came to mind: she started pounding her fists into his arms and chest and anywhere else she could find. She didn't care that he had already warned her twice against doing so or that she may even physically hurt him. In her mind, he deserved it.

Surprisingly, her father allowed the blows to fall; he didn't even flinch away from them, much less try to stop her abusing him. He simply held on to her. Zoe struggled for freedom again as her father fell to his knees and continued to pull her into an embrace.

"Zoe, please…"

"You don't care about me!" she cried as she punched his chest and tried to use his shoulders to push away from him. "You care more about your stupid potions…and your clients… you don't care…"

"I _do_ care," he said softly. "I care very much that you are hurting and that I was the unfortunate cause of that pain."

"No, you don't! If you did, y-you never would have…you n-never…"

"I was wrong. I should not have done it. You must believe me." Her father's voice sounded desperate, fearful even.

"No! Let go," Zoe cried as she landed another half-hearted fist to her father's shoulder.

She was growing tired with the fight and all the crying was giving her a headache. She was vaguely aware of the fact that her father had won the struggle and she was now sobbing onto the shoulder of his black coat willingly as he held her tightly in his arms, shushing her, as one of his hands rested comfortingly on the back of her head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered very close to her ear. "Gods, I'm so, so sorry."

All Zoe could do was continue to cry as her legs suddenly let out beneath her with the weight of her emotions. Her father went to the stone floor with her, leaning against the leg of the workbench as he heaved her sideways onto his lap and rocked her as he had when she was very little.

He continued to do this for several minutes as he let Zoe cry herself out. Eventually, she was doing little more than sniffling and trying to blink away the salty tears that continued to cling to her long, dark eyelashes. Her head was resting underneath her father's chin and he was still clinging to her though his rocking had ceased with her bawls.

Zoe stared ahead of her where the remnants of her outburst were evident. A curdled, yellow potion stained the tabletop and ran all the way down one of the legs of her father's workbench where it had pooled into a contained puddle by his spell. She hadn't meant to spoil his potion and, especially now that she had heard her father apologize and show genuine remorse for what he had done to her, Zoe felt extremely guilty for allowing her emotions to get the better of her.

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she sat up slightly and felt her father adjust his arms to her movement.

"I ruined your potion," she said, her voice nasally as she shamefully looked up into her father's face.

He turned his head, glancing at the liquid covering everything, and nodded. "Yes, you did," he said. "But I can brew it again later."

"Won't your client be upset?" Zoe asked through sniffles.

"Yes, I imagine I will get quite the earful from Madam Pomfrey for not procuring that acne remedy in a timely manner. But I suppose the spotty teenagers of Hogwarts will just have to wait a few more days." He smirked down at her slightly. "It's nothing I haven't handled before."

"I'm sorry, Papa," Zoe whispered as she buried her face in his robes.

He, in turn, ran his fingers through her hair again and Zoe felt him rest his chin on the top of her head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one at fault."

Zoe nodded her head, but didn't respond.

Her father pulled her away from him after a few moments and Zoe looked up at his face. There was sorrow in his eyes; it made her want to burst into tears again for making her father so sad. She felt guilt rush over her for a second time for being such a nuisance and acting like a baby.

"Zoe, you need to understand that what I did—"

"You mean reading my mind?"

"Legilimency is hardly mind reading. The mind is not—"

"Legili—what?" Zoe asked.

Her father frowned slightly, but continued to explain.

"Legilimency. It is a rather obscure, but useful skill that allows a witch or wizard to glimpse into the mind of another and sift through thoughts, emotions…memories…as a means of ascertaining information."

"So you were reading my mind," Zoe confirmed.

"It is hardly that simple, but—" Her father sighed heavily. "Yes, for the purpose of this conversation, I was reading your mind."

Zoe looked long and hard at her father, feeling that swell of shame and hurt in her chest once more. She could barely keep her lower lip from trembling. "But why would you do that?"

Her father looked away from her then, his eyes unfocused. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something, but he eventually turned to look right into her eyes.

"I never meant to, I swear to you. It was wrong of me to invade your privacy. The mind is a very personal thing and delving into one's innermost thoughts is a highly intimate experience. Legilimency is not often employed but in the most extreme cases and, in all honesty, my curiosity about your class performance can hardly be considered extreme."

"So you were just angry that I lied to you about potions. You were punishing me," Zoe said softly, looking into her lap and feeling ashamed once more.

Her father reached out his hand and touched her chin, guiding her eyes back up to his.

"There is absolutely nothing you could do that would merit such discipline. What I did was wrong—plain and simple—and you had every right to feel betrayed by me."

"Then why did you do it?" Zoe asked again.

Her father looked up, thinking for a moment, before looking back at her. He sighed as if tired. "Because you, my daughter, have quite the knack for testing my patience and that day I was angry and I was confused by your behavior. I thought that perhaps you had botched those potions in order to hurt yourself intentionally and that— I couldn't bear the thought that—" He paused and sighed again. "I didn't know why you would do such a thing. I needed more than anything to understand. I wanted you to explain it, initially, I truly did, but I'd entered into that classroom in too much of a fury and you, understandably, chose to keep the information I so longed for from me. That, unfortunately, made me make the grievous decision to enter your mind without preamble or permission."

Zoe once more averted her eyes from her father's face. "I—"

She didn't really know what to say. The idea that she had wanted to injure herself was mad. All she had ever wanted was to get her father's attention for she had always found it difficult to express to him her feelings verbally, to approach him with her selfish want for more of his time. And she had wanted to share something with him in potion-making. Now that she thought about it, perhaps she had gone about it the wrong way.

"I just wanted you to spend time with me," she finally confessed. "And you always spent so much time brewing potions that I thought that, if we could do it together…or even if I could just sit with you and watch… but you didn't seem to have time or you would ask me to go do something else."

Her father nodded. "I admit that I am… more accustomed to a solitary brewing process—especially when I'm working on very difficult brews—and the fact that you tend to be rather prone to questions…" He shook his head. "Still, I should not have pushed you away. I should have embraced your curiosity, included you."

Zoe understood and nodded, pressing on when her father seemed to pause in his explanation.

"When I messed up that Pepperup Potion, you said you'd help me brew it again and then you did and I really liked that and, well, that's why I kept messing up on purpose."

Her father watched her critically then nodded slightly.

"Yes, I understand that now, but you were being unacceptably defiant and stubborn about explaining that to me in the Charms classroom..." he said sternly, trailing off.

"I was—" Zoe started to defend herself.

Her father shook his head again, causing Zoe to stop mid-sentence.

"My frustration with you does not excuse my actions," he spoke over her. "I shouldn't have gotten angry and I should not have employed Legilimency. It should have occurred to me earlier to seek out the root cause of your acting out; I should have talked with you from the start."

Zoe didn't know what to say to that. Her father said that he was wrong. He had apologized and he had seemed truly remorseful. This was certainly an occurrence that was few and far between.

Unsure of how to proceed, Zoe merely nodded and leaned back into her father. He was so warm and, wrapped up in his arms, she felt so safe and protected.

"I forgive you, Papa," she said quietly, some minutes later.

Those words must have been exactly what her father had been waiting to hear for, as soon as they had left her mouth, she felt him relax. It was as if he had been carrying the weight of his actions—in addition to his daughter's resentment toward him—around and that burden had finally been lifted from his soul.

"Zoe," her father uttered.

"Hmm?"

"I just want to reiterate that I never intended to hurt you with the breach of your mind."

"I know, Papa."

"And last night before dinner… I should not have struck you. I was angry and I was desperate to gain your attention, but that was not the appropriate tactic to use. I should have remained calm, but instead I set a bad example by resorting to a physical reprimand. I apologize."

Zoe merely nodded, blushing slightly.

Her father squeezed her then and ran his hand through her hair yet again. As he did it, Zoe felt her eyes morphing their hue. She couldn't be certain without looking in a mirror, but she assumed that they were finally changing from that strange melancholy color she had been unable to shake for several days now to a deep black that matched her father's. She sat contentedly for several minutes on her father's lap, relishing in their uncommon closeness.

"Zoe?" her father said then.

"Yeah?"

"Perhaps we could move to somewhere more comfortable?"

"I am comfortable," Zoe said, reaching up and wrapping her arms around her father's neck and hugging him.

"Yes, and cheeky to boot, but I am still sitting on stones while you have the luxury of my lap."

Zoe giggled before standing from her father's lap and reaching out a hand to help him up off the floor. As soon as he was standing, he strode to his workbench to assess the damage she had caused. A quick _Evanesco_ successfully cleared away what remained of the potion and disposed of the destroyed cauldron and soon order was restored once more to his workspace.

"We can continue talking, but I must finish this potion. It would be unwise to keep it in stasis much longer," her father said, looking back at Zoe. "Perhaps you would like to go wash your face?"

She nodded, knowing she was probably all blotchy and covered in snot and tears, and walked to the bathroom. When she reemerged, she found that she was actually rather curious as to what her father was brewing. There was no doubt that it was probably much more difficult than what they would be working on in Professor Goode's class, but perhaps her father would show her anyway.

Slowly, Zoe made her way toward the bench where her father was working and didn't stop until she was standing right next to him. He glanced down at her briefly but didn't say anything as he diced a salamander tail. She watched as his long fingers expertly wielded the sharp knife, cutting each piece into an exact size to the one before it. The precision was fascinating and Zoe was amazed at how her father made it look so easy. Deep inside, she hoped she could one day be that exact in her preparations.

When he was finished with the tail, he scooped the pieces up into his hand and tossed them into the boiling cauldron which sizzled and popped as the ingredients melded together. He took up the stirring rod and did three clockwise stirs, stopped for exactly five seconds before doing three anticlockwise stirs. Then he removed the stirrer and moved to measure out some form of powder onto his scale.

"What are you brewing?" Zoe finally mustered up the courage to ask.

He glanced at her once more and raised a single eyebrow. Zoe solidly held his gaze.

"It is called Faraday's Brew."

"What does it do?"

Her father turned back toward the cauldron and started to stir it anticlockwise again, this time in a sort of strange rhythm—five slow, two fast, six slow, three fast, and so on. Zoe watched him patiently as the liquid within the cauldron changed gradually from a dark, murky brown to almost white, knowing he would more than likely answer her question once he didn't have to focus so much on the stirring. She was utterly amazed at how he knew to do the stirring in such an exact way—he wasn't even reading instructions from anything.

Finally, the brew seemed to be at the consistency her father desired and he laid the stirring rod aside, threw in a dash of the strange, fine powder, allowing it to dissolve on its own, and turned to face her.

"It is a healing solution for internal bleeding and bruising. I am brewing it for Madam Pomfrey who likes to keep some on hand during the Quidditch season. I wanted to get this particular brew finished for next term and out of the way before the holiday break."

"Are you finished now?" Zoe asked.

"No, I am only a quarter of the way through this particular brew, but it must boil unstirred for six hours once the powdered bicorn horn is added."

"Oh," Zoe said. She had hoped she could help her father finish it. "Er, could I maybe…help you finish it later?"

Her father seemed to consider her, before he sighed rather resignedly. "No, you can't."

Zoe's eyes widened. She hadn't thought that he would actually say no. And they had come so far in the last few minutes… Her feelings hurt, she turned to walk away, but felt a tug as her father grabbed the loose fabric of the back of her robes and pulled her back.

"Not so quick, silly girl. It isn't that I don't want you to assist me, but Faraday's Brew, in its early stages, can be quite harmful to a growing body. If you are exposed to any more than its vapors, it can permanently stunt your physical development. I do not wish for that to happen."

Zoe didn't look at her father now, but nodded her head in understanding as she tried to blink away the tears that had been so quick to resurface. Her father remained quiet for a few more moments. Zoe could feel his eyes on her and she shuffled her feet.

"If you like," he began again, "you may help me prepare a bruise salve for one of my clients in Diagon Alley."

Zoe thought for a moment before nodding her head.

"You may start by separating out nine good sopophorous beans," he said, pulling a basket across the workbench toward her. "Have you learned yet what makes a good bean in your Potions class or perhaps Herbology?"

Zoe shook her head. "No, not yet. But I read once that they shouldn't be any longer than your thumb."

Her father, though not quite smiling, beamed down on her proudly. "That's my girl," he said. "You're correct. A thinner sopophorous bean—though it has its uses—is less potent. For most brews, the rounder and stouter the bean, the better it is."

Zoe nodded, smiling, and started going through the small basket of brown beans, picking out the best she could find. It didn't take long to separate out nine and soon her father had her crushing them with the edge of a knife in order to get as much juice out of them as she could. The two of them didn't talk much unless her father was showing her how to do something or if Zoe was asking a question, but Zoe found that she was content just to work.

This had been exactly what she had wanted so many times, yet only seemed to find when she had messed things up and he made her brew whatever potion again in order to learn from her mistakes. Of course, she always learned a lot, but Zoe no longer wanted it to be because she was being punished for a manipulated mistake, but just because she wanted to learn and he wanted to teach her.

Eventually, they came to a lull in the brewing process where Zoe was simply stirring normally as her father stood close by peeling the garlic he had brought out. If Zoe hadn't known what they were doing, it looked almost as if her father was preparing to cook a gourmet Italian meal. She smiled inwardly.

"Stop stirring now," her father said then. "The base is complete, but it will need several hours to cool completely. Then we can add the thickener."

Zoe nodded and pulled the stirring rod from the cauldron and set it aside just as her stomach grumbled audibly once again. Her father looked at her and smirked.

"I would have preferred you eat your breakfast," he said.

Zoe flushed. "I know. That's, er, sort of why I didn't."

Her father narrowed his eyes at her before striding into the narrow corridor off the laboratory. He reemerged a moment later with his heavy, black cloak and, to Zoe's surprise, her own hooded winter cloak. He tossed hers toward her before swinging his around his shoulders and clasping it firmly around his neck.

"What are we doing?" Zoe asked curiously.

"We're going for lunch."

"Why do we need our cloaks to go to the Great Hall?"

Her father rolled his eyes, but Zoe could tell he wasn't annoyed. "Because we aren't going to the Great Hall. I find myself suddenly craving shepherd's pie at The Three Broomsticks."

Zoe couldn't help but feel confused.

"We're going into the village? But, Papa, I can't. I'm only a first year. We're not allowed to go into Hogsmeade until third year."

Her father raised a skeptical eyebrow at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do you not wish to go?"

"No…I mean, yes, I do want to. But it's not allowed. Won't I get in trouble?"

"How on earth are you going to get into trouble? You will be with me."

"But the rules…"

Her father strode toward her and pulled her from her stool, taking her cloak from her hands and flinging it around her shoulders. "If you are truly that worried about these rules, then the object is to not get caught. If you don't tell Minerva, I won't," he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he pulled the hood up over her head.

Zoe smiled then. She liked this playful, carefree side of her father very much, but it was unlikely to last forever, so Zoe figured she should make the best of it now.

"All right," she said. "But how are we going to get out of the castle without anyone seeing us?"

"I think we'll manage," her father said as he pulled his wand from his robes and tapped the top of her head with it.

Zoe felt a cool trickle cascade down her all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes as the Disillusionment Charm took effect.

"Wicked," she responded as she watched her father do the same to himself. It was like being a chameleon. They faded right into their surroundings.

"Take my hand," her father said.

Though she couldn't really see him, it was easy for her to reach out and find his hand for he was still standing directly in front of her.

Together they made their way out of the castle and into Hogsmeade.

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><p><strong><em>Yeah, yeah, I know a little fluffy at the end there. But I feel there was plenty of angst in this chapter to offset the fuzzy stuff.<em>**

**_And... this is the part where I ask for reviews-because writers can't write in a vacuum._**


	18. Pleas, Pensieves, and Portraits

_**Oh, wow, longest chapter yet... Anyway, this one jumps back and forth between Severus and Zoe quite a bit, but I don't think it's confusing at all. This is the lead up chapter to their Christmas holidays chapters. Yes, I said 'chapters'. There will probably be several, but what can I say? Lots of stuff happens and there are lots of moments and, well, just because. I promise, they won't be boring, so bear with me.**_

_**Okay, enough with the explanations-the chapter's long enough as it is!**_

_**Enjoy.**_

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><p><strong>Pleas, Pensieves, and Portraits<strong>

Several hours later, Severus was making his way along the snow-covered lane that led to Hogwarts. He and Zoe had had a pleasant lunch at The Three Broomsticks where the aging, but ever-sociable Madam Rosmerta had inquired as to Severus's classes and had asked Zoe a number of questions pertaining to her enjoyment of school life. Zoe had been more than willing to regale the affable pub owner on some of the goings-on of her lessons as well as of her peers within Slytherin House—some things of which caused Severus to narrow his eyes suspiciously and make a personal note to investigate, but he did not comment.

Afterward, they had simply walked around the magical little village. Zoe had chattered to him about everything, it seemed, while Severus commented from time to time but, really, he had simply listened to her stories and gossip, giving her his full attention, as he tried to keep his nagging guilt at bay within his own mind.

How could he have hurt this child so? How could he have let the only true joy that had ever been in his life go through such an experience of distrust and betrayal? He knew that Zoe had forgiven him his grievous wrong, yet, the thought that she had a capacity for such clemency astounded him, for he had always been prone to grudges himself, prone to broody resentment, even as a child. The girl must have picked such a trait up from Minerva—or perhaps it was inherited from Elizabeth. She certainly didn't get it from him.

Of course, Severus had expected them to come to an understanding in this matter—a truce, perhaps. But he had also prepared himself for the real possibility that she would resent him for quite some time for what he had done to her. That didn't seem to be the case and he was genuinely relieved and elated.

He knew, also, that Minerva understood his mistake, that she was aware of his desperation at the time of his use of Legilimency. But, Severus knew that it would be a very long time before he truly forgave himself. He knew that this would be a mistake that was likely to sting any time his thoughts drifted to it, even years into the future, perhaps.

For the moment, however, he tried to focus on Zoe—to give her one good day at the end of this fiasco before she was forced to buckle down for her final week of school before the Christmas holidays.

Nearing the time for them to return, Severus had taken Zoe into Honeydukes Sweet Shop and allowed her to look around and choose one sweet only. He'd been rather surprised when she'd chosen a simple bar of dark chocolate over all the other strange, magical confections—even more astonished when she informed him that she had gotten it because she knew that it was _his_ favorite as she handed him a large chunk. He took the piece—for she had been quite right in her assessment of his tastes—though he couldn't recall ever having shared that particular bit of information with her.

Now, Zoe was running along ahead of him, playfully kicking at snowdrifts, and upsetting the white powder on shrubs and leaves as they walked the long road toward Hogwarts Castle. Severus watched her with that fatherly sense of pride that he didn't think he'd ever truly get used to; the idea that the wonderful, beautiful, clever creature licking clean snow off her mittens was, in fact, his.

Severus stopped and waited for his daughter to explore as Zoe circled trees on the edge of the path following a set of rabbit or bird tracks indented into the snow. Soon, however, she ran up to him, her cheeks flushed from cold and exertion.

"Thank you for bringing me to Hogsmeade," she said. "It's brilliant with all the snow."

"It is rather picturesque, I must say," Severus observed, looking around at their settings for a moment before looking down and giving Zoe a small smile.

Zoe, in turn, rewarded him with a beaming grin, her eyes sparkling.

"Come along," he said then. "We've been in the cold long enough, I think."

Zoe nodded and took his left hand, matching his strolling stride. Severus gave her hand a light squeeze.

"Papa?" she asked rather timidly after several minutes of walking in silence, simply taking in the calmness of the wintry surroundings. "Will you teach me Legilimency?"

Severus stopped in his tracks. He hadn't expected that particular question. He looked down on Zoe with, admittedly, wide eyes.

"You want to learn Legilimency?"

Zoe bit her lip as if thinking very hard about it, but in the end, she nodded her head with little apprehension.

"Yes. Will you teach me?"

Severus looked away but, after a few moments, began walking again—trudging, really—as he towed Zoe along with him. He remained silent, but he needed the movement to help him think. Zoe was good about staying quiet for she had seemed to understand, even from an early age, that his silence rarely meant that she was being ignored, rather that he was thinking deeply about her query.

After several moments, Severus looked down at his daughter and was surprised to see that she was watching him closely.

"I'm rather wary of doing that, Zoe," he said and he saw her shoulders visibly slump at his answer.

"_Please_, Papa," she said, wrapping both her arms around his left arm, beseeching him with big, royal blue eyes.

Severus shook his head slightly, and continued his pace toward the school.

"It is highly advanced magic. You already have a full timetable of classes to study and practice for," he reasoned. "You do not need to be taking on other subjects on top of your current curriculum."

Zoe, though still holding his hand, turned to look straight ahead of her where the enchanted gates were just coming into view around a bend in the road. Severus could see the disappointment on her face, however, and the slight pout of her lips. He was rather impressed that she hadn't resorted to melodramatic whining and pleading.

"Why do you wish to learn Legilimency?" he asked, truly curious.

Zoe looked up at him briefly, and then turned away and shrugged.

"Because… I think it seems interesting and... well… _you_ can do it," she said, then rather sheepishly: "I want to be able to do everything that you can."

Severus nodded to his daughter, but remained silent. After all, what she had said had warmed his heart and it always took him several moments to come to terms with that when it happened. The girl wanted to learn everything that he knew… of all people, she wanted to be like him. It shook Severus to think about that, though such a confession made him rather proud.

As they finally came to the gates, Severus stopped his daughter and looked down on her.

"Do you truly wish to learn?" he asked.

Zoe's face alit with a hopeful smile. "Oh, yes, Papa! Please teach me."

Severus quirked a single eyebrow.

"I will consider it, _but_—" Severus paused to make sure she was paying attention for her face brightened with such enthusiasm that he knew she was going to be less prone to listening. "—if I see any indication whatsoever that your school subjects are beginning to suffer, we will cease lessons immediately. Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes!" Zoe said, thrusting herself toward Severus, squeezing him around the ribs.

He allowed her her excitement for a moment or two before pushing her back to arm's length and looking down on her sternly.

"This is an advanced and difficult subject matter, Zoe. One that takes several years to fully master. Few witches and wizards have the concentration or drive to work beyond the most rudimentary techniques. Therefore, if you decide to pursue this, I will not tolerate insufficient study or practice. If you commit, you must commit completely."

"I will, Papa. I promise."

Severus nodded slightly.

"We will begin with Occlumency, then."

"What's that?" Zoe asked with interest.

"It is the opposite of Legilimency, or rather the counter to it. Before you can even hope to master entering another's mind, you must first learn to discipline your own mind to keep others out."

Zoe nodded her head with resolve and Severus knew that she was just as serious about this particular subject as she'd ever been about anything else.

Secretly, he was trying to push back his own apprehensive thoughts on the matter. Should he really be doing this? Zoe was only eleven, after all. Was she mature enough—focused enough—to put in the time and effort Legilimency and Occlumency required? She _had_ shown an apparent aptitude for Occlumency already, he remembered… Yes… for he had only expelled himself from her mind that fateful day in the Charms classroom after he had felt a foreign pressure against his own prodding. Severus hadn't thought about it until this very moment, but she _had_ pushed him out—or at least, she had managed to encourage him to leave.

He shook his head.

He supposed he wouldn't really know where her abilities or ambitions stood until they had started lessons. Besides, after the horrible week that he'd had, he would have promised her nearly anything, whole continents if she wanted them, just to continue to see that smile on her face and the enthusiastic gleam in her eye.

Apparently, feeling like everything was settled, Zoe started to make her way to the gates, unaware that he had yet to disable their wards. Severus, on the other hand, felt that there was still an issue to address and he quickly latched onto her arm before she could get too far away from him.

Zoe looked back at him with a perplexed expression only briefly before he had pulled her to him once again, fully engulfing her in his arms. They stood like that for only a moment before Severus spoke, trying his best to get the words out that he wanted to say.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said softly. "And you have my word that this will never happen again."

"I know, Papa. I know you didn't mean it," Zoe said, her voice muffled within his cloak and copious robes.

Severus gave a short nod, though Zoe couldn't see it. "And no matter how busy I get with my work, no matter how preoccupied or agitated I may seem to be, you are my child and you alone are my first priority. If you have something you wish to bring to my attention or if you just wish to talk, I encourage you to do so, no matter the circumstances."

"I will," Zoe said softly and, although she squeezed him a bit tighter, he could feel her whole body relax into him.

It was very apparent to Severus in that moment that Zoe had needed, perhaps longed for, this strong, physical connection with him for quite some time. Not that he had ever once pushed her away if she initiated physical affection—he couldn't stomach the thought of denying her that—but Severus had never really known how to bond with Zoe on this basic level. Even when she had been a baby, he'd balked at the thought of pushing a pram and he had tended to hold her only when she had been fussy or crying—or when the bossy girl had insisted on it. He had never exactly fawned over the child's every accomplishment, either, but he'd been there for every one of them and been pleased in his own way. Once Zoe had come to an age of reason and understanding, he had tried to show his affection and approval with gentle touches to her head or her shoulder, he'd tried to remember to tell her he was pleased. He would never have thought that the girl would crave this—a long, strong hug—so very much.

The longer they stood there, exchanging warmth and affection in the snowy surroundings, the more Minerva's words drifted to him.

"Zoe?"

"Hmm?" Zoe responded.

"I also want you to know—" he began, but stopped himself. "No, I _need_ you to know that—"

He paused again, trying to gather his courage. What was wrong with him? He knew that what he wanted to express was true. So, why was it so bloody difficult to say? He let out an exasperated breath and continued.

"I need you to know that I love you. I love you very much."

There. He'd said it twice and the world hadn't caved in around him.

Zoe moved a bit and Severus realized that it was so that she could look up at him once more. He released his hold around her and instead brought both his hands up under her jaw line. He looked down on her with as much fondness as he felt he was able to muster.

But something was wrong. There were tears in her eyes again, yet the reason for the girl's emotion was difficult to read. Severus couldn't be entirely sure whether she was surprised by his sentiment or if she even believed it, and he had absolutely no idea what was causing her to cry all of a sudden.

He opened his mouth to ask her what was the matter but, before he could do so, Zoe spoke.

"I didn't mean it either, what I said," she stated, stifling a sob. "I don't hate you. I was angry when I said it. I didn't mean it at all."

Severus pulled her to him again, holding her tighter than before, as she continued to try to make amends to him.

"And I don't wish that Mum was here instead of you. I mean… I sometimes wish she were here… but with you, not instead of you. I don't know why I said that. It was awful of me. I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean any of it!"

"I know," he said simply, giving her a squeeze. "It is all forgotten."

Eventually, Zoe pulled away from him, searching his face and his eyes. Severus wasn't entirely certain what it was that she was looking for. Sincerity, perhaps? When it seemed like she had found what she had hoped to find within his features, she smiled that pensive smile yet again.

"I love you, too," she said, futilely trying to wipe her tears away with her snow-soaked mittens.

Severus, not knowing what else to do, had merely nodded subtly, waved his wand toward the gates which clicked and creaked open just enough so that he could usher his daughter through them. He cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself then he lightly tapped Zoe's head with his wand, doing the same for her. He saw her shudder at the sensation before she took up his hand once more when the spell took full effect, making her invisible.

Once they had entered into the Entrance Hall, Severus countered the charm on the girl and directed her to go to dinner, which was less than ten minutes away now—there was no reason why Zoe couldn't rejoin her classmates in the Great Hall and spend her final days of the term with her friends and in her own dormitory.

He briefly watched his daughter make her way toward the rather empty dining hall then Severus turned quickly and, still Disillusioned, he made his way up the grand staircase on his way to the Headmistress's office. After all, he needed to report to Minerva on the gratifying outcome to his weekend.

* * *

><p>Zoe was one of only a few students in the Great Hall when she entered for dinner. The staff table was all but deserted but for Miss Gwenog and Mr. Jones sitting at one end, no doubt taking their turns as the primary mealtime monitors that evening.<p>

She crossed quickly to the Slytherin table and took a seat in front of one of the numerous dinner plates laid out, but she would wait for Lottie before she'd start eating. Therefore, she started to think about the day she had just had with her father.

Aside from its frustrating beginning, it had been rather wonderful. It had been awhile since she'd felt like time had been devoted specifically for her and she was genuinely very happy that they had worked things out. In hindsight, she felt a bit guilty for putting him through what she had—it had been rather exhausting holding onto all that anger as well—but now that they had both managed to apologize to each other and talk through their respective feelings on the whole matter, Zoe felt that they were once more on even ground.

"Zoe, you're back. Were you with your father all weekend?"

Zoe looked up at Lottie's question as the girl came to sit at her right, a curious expression on her face. Zoe nodded.

"Hey, Lottie. Yes, we, er… we had to talk some things out," she said rather uneasily.

Lottie nodded, but didn't seem curious about the details, though Zoe felt awkward about it. She hadn't even told Lottie why she'd been angry with her father in the first place for she had been so confused and ashamed about it at the time and hadn't really known how to verbalize it then. Zoe took a deep breath.

"See… Papa sort of, well… and I, er…"

Lottie suddenly shook her head. "It's all right, Zoe. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I won't be upset; it's family stuff."

Zoe gave her best friend a weak smile. "I want to tell you, I just… I don't really know how to explain it. I don't really understand how it all works… but Papa said he'd teach me and—" Zoe paused and sighed. "Maybe I can explain it better after a few lessons of Occlumency."

Lottie smiled and pulled a bowl of green beans toward her. "Well, whatever it is and…whatever Occlumency is, did you and Professor Snape at least work something out? You seemed really cross with each other on Friday."

"We did."

Lottie nodded once. "Then that's all that matters. I know I'd be really upset if my father and I were quarreling."

Zoe smiled at her friend, so thankful for her understanding.

When the dinner hour was winding down, Caroline and John approached Zoe at the Slytherin table. It was only then that Zoe realized that her conversation with Lottie had been the easy part of explaining her disappearance over the weekend.

"Zoe! Where have you been?" John asked loudly.

"John, you could at least say hello first," Caroline scolded, rolling her eyes. "Hey, Zoe. We were so worried about where you'd gone. Lottie just said you'd gone with your father, but didn't know anything else."

Zoe glanced at Lottie briefly, then focused her attention on her other friends. "Oh, er, yeah. You see… Papa and I have a tradition of gathering potions supplies and… um, he wanted to take me on his expedition this weekend. So, he arranged with Professor McGonagall and, well, I'm back now."

"I wish my dad would pull me out of school to help him with his work," John said. "And so close to the holidays… you're so lucky, Zoe."

"Er, yeah, I suppose," Zoe said, looking at her now-empty plate.

She didn't like lying to her friends, even if it was only half of a lie—her and her father _had_ been on expeditions to gather potions supplies, after all, though Zoe didn't know if she'd call it a tradition. She gave another sideways glance at Lottie and was relieved to see that she seemed to understand Zoe's feelings and wasn't judging her on the story she's just told Caroline and John.

* * *

><p>Severus didn't have to knock on Minerva's office door once he'd come to the small landing at the top of the spiral stairwell. If he were a man of assumption, he would have assumed that the Headmistress was expecting him.<p>

He entered the office and approached the grand desk. Minerva was nowhere in sight, but he only had to wait for a few moments before she came out of the door of the small antechamber off the office where she did much of her reading.

"Ah, Severus," she greeted, crossing to her desk and sitting down. "I trust you and Zoe had an enjoyable afternoon in Hogsmeade?"

Severus arched a single eyebrow as he stood before his employer, clasping his hands behind his back.

"You knew," he stated, for it was obvious that she did.

"Of course. I have my spies in the village, just as all previous Headmasters and Headmistresses," Minerva teased. "Rosmerta flooed here to regale me on the enjoyable conversation she shared with you and Zoe at lunch."

Severus had the sudden image of two chickens clucking at each other and was sincerely grateful that he had not been present for the meeting between Minerva and Madam Rosmerta. He took a seat.

"I regret that I did not follow proper procedure for taking Zoe from the grounds, but there was a bit of a breakthrough and I—"

Minerva held up a hand to stop his apology. She shook her head.

"You needn't explain yourself…and think nothing of it. You are a trusted professor and Zoe's father—you have every right. I only ask that in the future you give me a bit of warning. A Patronus message is more than sufficient."

"Agreed," Severus said.

"How is Zoe?"

"I sent her to dinner in the Great Hall."

"You've made amends, then, or at least come to an agreement?" Minerva asked.

Severus inclined his head. "Though neither of us were unscathed," he started, suddenly feeling the urge to rub at a part of his chest where he would be making use of any spare bruise salve from the batch he and Zoe had concocted. "I do believe we've mended our fissure, yes."

"I'm glad to hear it, Severus. Truly."

Again, Severus nodded once and the two grew quiet for a moment. "Also," he began. "There's something that I think you should be made aware of…"

He launched into his recent conversation with Zoe, her request to learn Legilimency, and his agreement to teach her. Minerva was quiet as he explained his position on the matter and the various pros of Zoe's mastering such an area of magic. In truth, he couldn't be sure as to how the Headmistress was receiving it all. Her expression was remarkably unreadable.

"—and I genuinely feel that her temper, at the very least, could benefit from Occlumency training," Severus said. "She'd most certainly pick up more emotional cues from those around her, making interactions easier, and it's also known that skilled Occlumens are much more focused academically as well—"

"Provided that they can focus enough to train in the first place," Minerva interrupted, somewhat snidely, causing Severus to pause.

"You don't approve of my decision to teach her this?"

Minerva sat forward in her chair and leveled her Defense professor with a serious gaze. "My approval or disapproval is irrelevant. She's your daughter and you are free to teach her whatever magic or subject you wish—provided that it's legal if you intend to conduct lessons on Hogwarts grounds. I wouldn't say I'm wild about it. She's only eleven, Severus."

"Her age concerns me as well. I've read that early adulthood is the best time to learn it—even I was young at sixteen when my grandmother first introduced me to Occlumency. But Zoe's wandless abilities are astounding, Minerva. I feel that if any child could learn Occlumency at eleven, she could."

Minerva nodded her understanding.

"At any rate," Severus continued. "She's eager to learn and it could come in handy for her at some point in her life."

"I pray she will never have need of it as you did," Minerva said sadly.

Severus merely held her gaze, uncertain of how to respond, though he thoroughly agreed with that sentiment. Minerva seemed to be far away for a moment, but she quickly composed herself. She took a deep, fortifying breath and sat back in her chair.

"All right, how do you intend to do this?" she asked then.

"How do I intend to teach her?"

Minerva waved her hand impatiently. "No, that much is obvious. I mean, how do you intend to train her in these mind magics when there is so much that you are keeping from her? What happens when Zoe becomes capable of delving into _your_ thoughts and emotions? I do hope you've explained to her that Legilimency is a highly intimate experience that involves complex trust… I suppose what I mean to ask is: do you trust Zoe with your thoughts, with your memories? For, at last I'd known, you had still revealed very little of the war or your past to her."

Severus looked away from the Headmistress's gaze, instantly conveying that she was correct in her assumption.

"I have the pensieve that was bequeathed to me by Dumbledore. Anything I don't wish for Zoe to see will be extracted before each lesson."

Minerva solidly stared at Severus and the professor could tell that she did not approve of his answer. She shook her head.

"You'll have to tell her _something_ eventually, Severus."

"Not yet," he said simply. He didn't want to think about his past or how Zoe would react to it at that moment, for he was perfectly content to focus on continuing to build up his present relationship with his daughter.

Minerva looked away from him then, clearly agitated by his stubbornness on this issue.

"Very well. How do you intend to handle Zoe's secrets?"

Severus wrinkled his brow, confused.

"Zoe's secrets?"

Minerva's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Honestly, Severus. Zoe is an eleven-year-old girl. If she doesn't feel the inclination now, in the near future, she will most certainly wish to keep a few personal matters from her father."

The headmistress sighed, resolved in her opinion. "As her father, you know a great deal about Zoe but, I assure you, she has secrets—things she has never told you, things she probably hasn't told me. She shouldn't be forced to reveal them for the sake of education in an obscure field of magic. You must consider this before you begin teaching her for I rather doubt in her excitement that Zoe truly understands what learning Legilimency entails—despite your recent encounter. So, I shall reiterate: she needs to be made aware of the privacy that will be lost with each lesson."

Severus nodded. He supposed that in his own enthusiasm to teach his daughter a skill that they would share together, it was true that he had given very little thought to Zoe's desire to keep things from him. He would definitely be putting some thought into it now.

* * *

><p>On Tuesday, Zoe received a message from the Slytherin prefect, Rosalie West, during lunch. When she opened the folded note, it revealed a short invitation to tea from Minerva for just after classes finished that day.<p>

Zoe chanced a glance up to the head table and caught her godmother's eye, giving her a smile and nodding her head once. Minerva inclined her own head briefly before turning to resume her conversation with Professor Lupin.

When Zoe arrived in the Headmistress's office a few hours later, Minerva waved her over to come around the desk, where the witch embraced her goddaughter in a crushing hug. After a moment or two, Minerva spoke into Zoe's hair.

"These disputes between you and your father are prematurely aging me, I'll have you know."

Zoe let out a bark of laughter and pushed away from her godmother.

"Sorry," Zoe said lightheartedly, though upon seeing the semi-serious look on Minerva's face, she looked to the floor, sincerely remorseful. "Honestly."

"I'm teasing, darling," Minerva said, gesturing for Zoe to follow her into the antechamber where their tea awaited.

"Oh. So, then, you know about _everything_ that happened over the weekend?" Zoe asked as she took a seat in one of the chairs and waited as Minerva poured them both a cup of tea.

"Yes, your father has been in contact with me through nearly the entire ordeal. He was a bit exasperated during your more stubborn refusals to hear him out and sought a bit of advice thinking, I'm sure, that I would have more insight into your intentions."

The headmistress settled a very serious gaze upon her goddaughter then. "You shouldn't be so hard on him, Zoe. He regretted his breach of your mind almost immediately. And, though you had every right to be angry with him for it, don't you think it would have been more reasonable to talk it through from the start rather than drag your punishment for him out for several days? Your father was practically beside himself with guilt and remorse."

Zoe squirmed in her seat. She hadn't realized her godmother had intended to scold her for her behavior over the weekend. She felt bad enough as it was.

"I know," she said eventually. "It's just that I had been so upset for so long and, well, when Papa used the Legilimency, I guess it all just spilled over. I was tired of being angry with him after a day, really, and by the end, I just wanted us to be like we always were, but then I didn't know how to make him understand why I was so angry and to see all that without… without, erm…"

"Without compromising your stubborn, Snape-born pride?" Minerva asked, looking down her nose at Zoe knowingly.

Zoe smiled weakly, letting out a puff of air in amusement.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Minerva leaned back into her chair, looking on Zoe fondly. "You're very alike, you and your father. Just…give him the benefit of the doubt from time to time. He will make mistakes, just as you will. And… I implore you to remember for the future that he was always quick to forgive you each time you destroyed his cauldrons and wasted his ingredients over and over."

"Yeah, I know. I'll try to remember," Zoe said softly, feeling pretty guilty again.

"All right, then," Minerva said cheerfully, taking a slow sip of her tea. "Let's discuss—"

There was an interrupting knock on the door in the office then. Minerva rose, setting her tea down on the table beside her.

"Give me a moment," she said, exiting the antechamber.

Zoe nodded and, once she was alone, she stood and walked to the tall window and looked out upon the highlands. There was still snow everywhere, much of it completely unsullied. Zoe rather hoped that she'd have a chance to build a snowman before boarding the Hogwarts Express at the end of the week for she didn't know if there would be any snow when her and her father arrived in Cokeworth on Saturday afternoon. However, with the schoolwork the teachers seemed to want to heap upon them in this final stretch before the holidays, she rather doubted that she and her friends would have the opportunity.

Minerva returned only a minute later.

"I'm sorry, Zoe, I must see to something and I could be several minutes. Would you like to have tea again tomorrow? Or, perhaps, you'd simply like to wait?"

"I'll wait. All my homework is finished for tomorrow, so I'm free the rest of the evening."

"Very well. I'll be as quick as I can."

Then Minerva left Zoe alone in her office, which seemed surprisingly quiet once she was by herself. Zoe walked back to her seat and took a sip of her tea, then set her cup back onto its saucer on the table.

She snatched up a biscuit and nibbled at it as she looked up and around her at the books and trinkets on the shelves in the antechamber.

Then she sat back, slouching in her chair, and swinging her feet back and forth. As the soles of her Mary Janes lightly skidded across the floor, they made a rather interesting sound, so she started to drum her fingers on the arm of her chair as well, making a rhythm that Zoe was certain would have annoyed her father had he been there to hear it.

She stopped suddenly, for she could have sworn she'd heard someone talking out in the office. She waited, listening intently. It was quiet again, then…

"We are just waiting for Everard, I believe…"

Yes. She knew she'd heard talking. But who could it be? Did Minerva always let random people wander into her office to discuss things? Zoe rose from her chair and quietly approached the door of the antechamber, which Minerva had left open a crack. She peered around it into the office.

The room was empty.

Wrinkling her brow in confusion, Zoe opened the door a bit wider. She was rewarded with more talking, which fed her curiosity.

"They're being rather cavalier, I'd say…" said the original voice Zoe had heard.

"What is the young Potter boy's view of the issue?" asked one wizard.

"He hasn't been a boy in nearly two decades…" said a high-pitched female.

"Yes, we're all dying to know what the luckiest wizard in history has to say, Dumbledore," drawled a rather haughty-sounding wizard.

"Honestly, Phineas, there's no need for such derision." That was another wizard, this one sounding older.

"Hear, hear," said another.

"Thank you for your colorful input, Professors. But I now request that we all put our opinions on unrelated issues aside for just a moment. As you can all see, Everard has just arrived and we wish to discuss with you what we've gleaned from the Ministry today."

That voice sounded commanding, but not unkind. It was that particular voice that gave Zoe the courage to step fully into the office to investigate the source of the conversations she was hearing. At first, she had assumed it was a constituency of Hogwarts ghosts, conversing invisibly within the Headmistress's office. It wasn't until someone spoke above her that she turned, her eyes wide, and realized it was one of the many portraits that lined the walls.

"Hello, dear. We didn't realize anyone was left in the office," the high-pitched witch addressed her.

Zoe had been startled, but she quickly relaxed. After all, all the portraits in Hogwarts talked. Though this was the third time this term that she'd been inside this office, it was the first time she'd heard any of these specific paintings speak, however.

"Hello," she said to the room at large with a sigh of relief. "My godmother just stepped out. We were having tea in the antechamber and I heard voices."

"Ah, yes, the Snape girl." It was the haughty wizard who spoke then. His portrait hung just to Zoe's left. He didn't look like a very nice man.

"How did you know that?" she asked suspiciously.

The dark-haired wizard looked down his nose at Zoe and sneered. "McGonagall hardly shuts up about you, does she? Always boring us with tales of accidental magic and childhood milestones and, oh, my goddaughter's an _Oculomagus, _as if it was some sort of gift rather than a bloody birth defec—"

"Enough, Phineas."

Zoe had been growing angry at the stupid portrait being awful about her godmother. She wasn't sorry when the wizard huffed and exited his frame, apparently displeased with being reprimanded by the other wizard, the one with the long, white beard and half-moon spectacles. His portrait hung directly above Minerva's desk.

"Please ignore my colleague, Zoe. Professor Black was not an agreeable man when he was living and being oil and canvas for nearly a hundred years does not tend to improve an already rather foul disposition. I hope you will not hold it against the rest of us who are typically much more pleasant."

Zoe took a deep breath to calm her ire and turned her eyes upon the painting.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, probably a bit rudely.

The wizard in the portrait gave her a kind, fond smile, his blue eyes seeming to twinkle as if they were real. He sat forward in his tall chair.

"Aside from Phineas being quite right regarding Minerva's fondness for you and her natural proclivity to frequently speak very highly of you, I would make it my business to know the name of Severus's only daughter."

"You know my father?" Zoe asked, her eyes wide, as she crossed to take a seat on the top of Minerva's desk.

"Indeed, quite well at one time; I held him in rather high regard. Your father was one of my most trusted professors and colleagues while I was headmaster."

"Oh… Er, sir? Who are you? Papa never mentioned knowing any Heads other than Minerva."

The wizard nodded solemnly. "Yes, I hear there is much he has yet to tell you… My name is Albus Dumbledore. I presided over Hogwarts prior to Minerva and your father's short time as Headmaster."

"Papa was Headmaster? When?"

"Yes, many years ago—several years before you were born. It was another time, a harder, darker time—for all the wizarding world…"

As the old wizard trailed off, lost in thought, Zoe wrinkled her brow, confused. She didn't know her father had been Headmaster once—a professor, yes, and Potions Master. But, Headmaster? If that was the case, why wasn't he still? Why had he relinquished the position to Minerva all those years ago? At the back of Zoe's mind, she started to wonder if it had any connection to that war she kept hearing about, the one Dumbledore had just alluded to a moment ago—the one her father obviously didn't like to talk about.

"Could I ask you a question?" Zoe asked then.

"I'm afraid you just have. But, I imagine that is not what you meant, so you may ask another."

Zoe smiled at that. Her father often said a similar thing to her when she worded things like that. She pushed on with her real question.

"Why did you hold my father in high regard?"

Dumbledore smiled down on her, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Severus is, by far, one of the most talented wizards I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I am aware of his often caustic and condescending nature, but he is a true and humble academic, well-versed in many areas of magic. This is something I always respected in anyone. Our relationship—which may be best categorized as a mentorship, of sorts, though Severus may label it quite differently—was complex and often trying. As I said, it was a difficult era for wizard-kind, yet there were two men that proved to be the most courageous and loyal I ever met, despite the odds against them. Your father was one of those men."

Zoe's jaw practically dropped in astonishment. She knew, of course, that her father was brave, but as his daughter, she had to concede that she was rather biased. After all, saving her from the evils of a spider crawling in the bath, or walking between her and a barking dog chained in a neighbor's garden, or allowing her younger self to hide in his robes upon meeting a stranger or to crawl into bed with him during a thunderstorm, were hardly feats befitting an Order of Merlin—though they made him the bravest wizard ever in Zoe's eyes. But one of the most courageous men this wizard had ever met? Zoe simply couldn't believe it. What had he done to earn such a distinction?

"Oh dear, I am afraid I have planted a bee in your bonnet."

Zoe looked up to the portrait of Dumbledore.

"Maybe, sir," she said ruefully, giving a small, apprehensive smile.

Dumbledore shook his head, but smiled back at her. "Severus will be out for my blood, I'm afraid. Or, perhaps, my paint in this case."

Zoe giggled lightly.

"I won't tell him you told me he was the Headmaster once," Zoe placated.

Dumbledore smiled wider. "I'm afraid there is little that makes it past your father, my girl. He has very keen observational and investigative skills. He will discover the source of your information eventually, I'm sure."

"Well, you've got that right," Zoe said sarcastically. "I never get away with anything."

Dumbledore let out a strong laugh then. "Now, don't sell yourself short. As I understand it, if anyone has the capacity to pull the wool over Severus's eyes, it is you. I have much faith in your ability to mischief-make under the radar of your father."

Zoe giggled again as the door behind her opened and Minerva walked in. She paused just inside, looking between Zoe sitting upon her desk and the portrait of Dumbledore above her goddaughter's head. Zoe could have sworn she'd seen a momentary uneasiness in her godmother's features for a split second before Minerva gave a small smile and walked forward.

"Albus, good afternoon. I thought you were spending the day in your frame at the Ministry?"

"Indeed, I was. However, Everard and I grew somnolent of the banality of governance and order. I'm sure you can understand an old man's desire for a livelier setting indicative of the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. And it would appear that we returned in good time, too; Miss Snape's pleasant conversation the last few minutes has proven most medicinal to the weariness of a long day spent listening in on dull meetings and conversations."

"I'm sure," Minerva said, her lips in a rather disapproving, thin line. She came to Zoe and put a hand on her shoulder, addressing her. "Zoe, dear, why don't you go back into the antechamber and have another biscuit? I'll be there in a moment."

"Did I do something wrong?" Zoe asked, perplexed by her godmother's behavior.

"Not at all. Go on, please."

Zoe nodded. "All right. It was nice meeting you, Professor Dumbledore."

"The pleasure was all mine, child."

Zoe hopped down off the desk and walked toward the door of the antechamber. She didn't fully close the door behind her once she entered, however. Instead, she left it cracked slightly and put her ear to the gap, listening out into the office.

"Severus has every reason to commend himself. She's absolutely a delight," Zoe heard Dumbledore say.

"I said you could speak with her in my presence _only_, Albus," Minerva hissed lowly. "You completely defied my wishes and you've now undermined Severus's parenting choices."

"I think that's a bit dramatic, Minerva," the old wizard responded dryly. "It could hardly be called undermining when, essentially, very little was said before you came in."

"For your sake, I hope that is true," Minerva said tersely, with finality.

The sound of the Headmistress's shoes plodding on the stone floor caused Zoe to scurry away from the antechamber door and jump into her chair, snatching up a biscuit as she settled. She tried to play casual as Minerva walked through the door and closed it behind her.

Zoe watched her godmother pause for a moment, her eyes closed, before she opened them once more and smiled pleasantly.

"Now, what are your plans for New Year's Eve?"

* * *

><p>"Why are we being so quiet again?"<p>

Severus opened his eyes to see his daughter's blue irises trained on him. She sat cross-legged in a wing-backed chair directly opposite him in his own, identical chair within his office.

It was the final day of the term and Severus was making use of the time between the early release of the final classes and dinner to begin Zoe's Occlumency lessons. Though he knew that she was excited for the holidays to officially begin the following day, he had hope that she would be able to focus for just a few hours that afternoon in order for him to lay down the groundwork of her training.

He sighed in response to her question. He may have been wrong…

"Zoe, I already explained that we are sitting quietly in order to rest our minds, calming our emotions, and putting our anxieties aside. We've done a similar meditative exercise before."

"Yeah, but that's because you didn't like it when I lost my temper a few times."

"Indeed. I still don't," Severus said matter-of-factly. "You losing your temper has a tendency to result in my cleaning up shattered glass."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, but seemed to ignore his snide comment.

"I thought you were going to teach me Occlumency?"

"This is part of the lesson. Close your eyes, breathe, and drain your mind of your thoughts."

"How do I do that, though?" Zoe asked. Severus could already hear a hint of frustration creeping into her tone.

"By simply not thinking of anything."

"_How_?" Zoe asked again, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her hands gripping the arms of her chair.

Severus sighed again, trying to be as patient as possible.

"You can start by relaxing," he said calmly. "Breathe deeply; allow nothing to distract you from nothingness."

"What?"

_Yes, perhaps that had been a bit confusing…_

"Your goal is a blank mind. Should a thought try to enter in and shift your focus to it, push it away and think of nothing once more."

He could clearly see the girl struggling to do as he said but he wasn't sensing that she was even calm, much less focused.

Several minutes passed and, eventually, Severus closed his own eyes again, clearing his mind of any errant thoughts. That is until he heard a frustrated growl. He opened his eyes just in time to see his daughter stand and stalk to the door of his office and wrench it open.

"Zoe," he said firmly to call her back.

"I can't do it!" she shouted over her shoulder, continuing out into the Defense classroom.

Severus rose quickly to follow after her.

"Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth!" his voice boomed as he took a single step out of his office and watched his daughter halt in her petulant stride across the classroom.

She knew, of course, that the use of all three of her given names combined with that particular tone from her father was unwise to ignore. She turned back to look at him and Severus, looking on her sternly for a brief moment, turned without a word and reentered his office, knowing the girl would return as well.

Once she did, closing the door behind her, she dragged her feet to her chair and resumed her position there. She stared at him with an oddly unsettling, annoyed bravado.

Across from her, Severus raised a single eyebrow.

"Clearly, your temper is well in check," he said condescendingly, giving his daughter a pointed look. "Are you quite finished with your histrionics?"

Zoe crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"I don't know how to do it!" she said loudly, peevishly.

"It is your first lesson, Zoe. I do not expect you to know how to do it instinctively. However, a lack of effort to _try_ absolutely will not be tolerated. If I recall, you agreed to give forth your best in this endeavor, despite my cautioning you that it would be a long and difficult process to learn. Shall we just end the lesson here and forget about any in the future?"

He leveled her with a firm gaze.

"You haven't told me how to do anything," she accused quietly, looking away from him.

Severus rolled his eyes and looked away from her as well. He brought a hand up to rub his forehead. Perhaps the girl was too young for this after all. She didn't even seem to understand that he was merely trying to teach her to empty her mind of errant thoughts as a form of exercising her brain before beginning Occlumency training. Even Potter—thick as he was—had vaguely understood that aspect of his lessons when Severus had attempted to teach the boy all those years ago. Of course, he'd fought him in every lesson, but there had been times when Potter _had_ seemed to grasp that before one could fully control their own thoughts and emotions, one had to learn to be thoughtless, emotionless.

Zoe, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the patience to sit still for the time required to remove her thoughts from her mind—this was a definite disadvantage to teaching Occlumency to an active, outgoing child versus an angry, resentful teenager. Couple that with the fact that she was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to things she was genuinely interested in—a trait she had inherited from Severus—and therefore was easily discouraged and irritated when she couldn't get something right on the first try. This was likely to make for a bit of a frustrating process for the both of them.

All that considered, he didn't know how to make her understand the significance of absent-thought meditation in any way other than what he was already doing.

"I tried to make the thoughts go away, but they just kept coming back and I don't know how to make my mind blank," Zoe said softly, causing Severus to turn to look at her once more.

He thought for a moment.

"Perhaps you need something to focus on—something that is actually blank, dull even, to help you visualize nothingness."

Zoe seemed to perk up at his suggestion, her eyes lighting up with sudden curiosity. That had always been one of his favorite aspects of teaching his daughter—her eagerness and enthusiasm to acquire new knowledge.

"You mean, like the yellow wall at the Ventnor cottage?" Zoe asked.

Severus snorted with amusement. What it was about Ventnor that brought out Zoe's disobedient, defiant streak, he would never know but, as a younger child, she had seemed to spend more time looking at that particular stretch of wall during a week at the seaside cottage than she would looking at any other wall during the entire rest of the year combined.

He inclined his head.

"Yes, that should do," he said. "Close your eyes and envision it."

This time, Severus noticed that Zoe's face was much less wrinkled in forced concentration; it was much more relaxed and serene which meant the focus was coming much easier to her than it had before. It appeared that he had clued in to how Zoe would best learn the mind magics: visually.

He sat watching her concentrate on her visual aid. Unprompted, she began to breathe in through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth, deepening the meditation. After several minutes, Severus closed his eyes, going through his own, personal process of clearing his mind.

Eventually, he opened his eyes once again and quietly pulled his wand from his robes.

"Zoe," he said quietly and waited as Zoe slowly opened her own eyes to stare at him. "Before we begin, I need to make it very clear to you that these lessons _will_ consist of me trying to penetrate your mind, just as I did in the Charms classroom, while you attempt to block me. They can become quite invasive, but know that I do not do it to pry or to try to ascertain all of your thoughts; it simply must be done in order to strengthen your defenses. Do you understand?"

He watched as Zoe blinked and looked away for a moment. She bit her lip in apparent apprehension, but when she turned her eyes upon him once more, there was resolve in them.

She nodded slowly.

Severus gave his own curt nod. "I will reiterate this statement at the initiation of every lesson, just so we are always clear, all right?"

Again, Zoe nodded and Severus raised his wand slightly and pointed it at her.

"_Legilimens_," he whispered.

Instantly, his own mind flooded with images seen from eyes that were not his own. Several included classroom settings while others the sea or the rafters of Zoe's attic bedroom in Spinner's End. He saw flashes of the Great Hall and a few images several yards above the grass—they appeared to be from the seat of a broomstick. He saw his own face many times, then that of Minerva, Ollie, Lupin, and Longbottom. Then he saw a flash of the Gryffindor crest before he felt that same pressure on his mind as he had experienced in the Charms classroom. He tried to ignore it.

Severus's aim in entering his daughter's mind unprompted had been to determine if she was relaxed enough to begin the Occlumency training and, as he'd said, he didn't want to pry more than was necessary for the lesson. But he was suddenly curious about why his daughter would hold the image of the Gryffindor crest as closely in her mind as she did the Slytherin one, which whipped past at that moment as if trying to distract him. It was then that Severus realized the Gryffindor crest was attached to robes, but before he could alter his view of the vision, the pressure he had felt became a sharp prod, and he severed the connection he had established.

Zoe's eyes were a fiery orange color and they were narrowed angrily at him.

"You didn't say you were going to do that yet," she spat. "I wasn't ready."

Severus raised a single eyebrow. "No Legilimens who means you harm is going to ask you politely before they enter your mind," he said simply. "You must always assume that they will force their way in whether you are ready or not. For this reason, you must be ever-vigilant."

At least the girl's eyes became less narrow, but when she spoke, there was still anger in her voice. "You haven't taught me anything yet!"

"Yes, I am aware. I entered your mind just now in order to accurately assess your current aptitude, to see how well you fared without any training so that I can formulate our lessons for the future."

Zoe slumped in her chair, clearly agitated, as she crossed her arms over her chest. "How am I to keep anyone out if you don't show me how?" she grumbled petulantly.

Now Severus narrowed his eyes. "If you will stop with the accusations, I will explain the process to you."

Zoe inhaled deeply and he watched as her eyes gradually faded back to blue.

"Okay," she said calmly, uncrossing her arms and sitting up straighter. She then gave him an expectant look, waiting for him to truly begin the Occlumency lesson.

Severus gave a subtle nod and then stood, walking to a cupboard to the left of his desk. He opened it and pulled from it a shallow, stone basin with runes around the edges. He walked back to his desk and set the pensieve there, waving his daughter to him.

Zoe came to stand next to the desk, directly across from him. She looked into the basin curiously, despite the fact that it was currently empty. Without a word, Severus took his wand in hand once more and put it to his temple.

Several minutes went by as he pulled every dark or painful memory from his mind that he didn't wish his daughter to see, making sure that images from her own childhood, from her mother, from his day-to-day life at Hogwarts, were at the forefront of his mind in the unlikely event that she managed to penetrate his own Occlumency shield. The girl remained quiet as he did this, watching him with a look of disbelief and awe on her face. As the final thread of memories was extracted, Severus followed his daughter's gaze down into the pensieve, equally as enthralled with the swirling, pearlescent liquid now stored there.

After several more moments, Zoe was still so distracted by the memories that she hadn't asked the expected question of what they were or why he had taken them from his mind. Severus decided that perhaps it was best to explain unprompted.

"This is called a pensieve, which is a rare magical object that allows for the safe storage and effective review of strands of memory. This particular one was bequeathed to me by the last and late Headmaster of Hogwarts—"

"Professor Dumbledore?" she interrupted, looking up at him curiously.

Severus blinked, somewhat dumbfounded. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore…" he said, thrown off by her knowledge for a moment before he managed to compose himself. "I have extracted a number of memories from my mind that I wish to keep private—"

"You don't want me to see them?" Zoe asked, her brow furrowed.

Severus inclined his head in the affirmative while trying to think of a way to explain why in a way that would not make her feel like he was being maliciously secretive.

"I believe that we all have things that we do not want others to know or have thoughts that we wish to protect others from. Perhaps we're embarrassed or ashamed of the memories and are too proud to share them, or they may be frightening to relive. If you think about it, I believe that you can probably think of a few things that you do not wish for me to know about."

Zoe bit her lip in apprehension then. He could tell from the look on her face that Minerva had been correct; Zoe did indeed have secrets. For some reason, a part of him was saddened by that knowledge though, logically, he knew that had always been an inevitability. Children generally did have things that they didn't tell their parents, and it made sense that a girl was likely to be even more secretive about certain things with her father than she may have been with her mother.

When Zoe eyed the pensieve anxiously, Severus opened the lowest, largest drawer of his desk and pulled from it a heavy, wooden box. He set it next to the pensieve on his desk.

"This is for you," he said simply, sliding the top of the box back.

Zoe stood up on her tiptoes, peering over the top of the box where another stone pensieve was situated, protectively surrounded by straw packing. As she slowly pulled it out of the box, Severus was pleased to see that the runes around the outside rim had been etched correctly. He'd paid generously for the customization and the rush order, but hadn't had a chance to check the quality of the work until just now.

This pensieve was considerably less ornate than Dumbledore's. It was made of a heavy, dark grey stone and polished to opulence and, though it was also much smaller than the one left to Severus, it would work effectively for their Occlumency lessons.

"What do they mean?" Zoe asked then, looking up at Severus briefly as she ran her fingers over the runes.

Severus leaned forward, and touched the first set of runes, feeling the magic of the pensieve course through his fingers.

"These are equivalent to your name—our surname in sound only, but your first name in meaning. This rune has a rather rough translation to _anima_, which, as you know, is Latin for life. Since Zoe, in Greek, means 'life'… well, it's appropriate enough."

At Zoe's nod, he turned the stone basin then and touched the second set of symbols on the other side, which were actually not runes at all, but letters from the ancient Greek alphabet. "These are a quote by Aristotle reading, 'The energy of the mind is the essence of life'."

Zoe was smiling at him now. "It's beautiful, Papa," she said quietly. "Thank you."

Severus nodded once and then came around the desk to stand next to his daughter.

"In order to extract memories, you must concentrate on them; a bit of the emotion associated with them, and a brief image at the forefront of your mind is enough for your wand to latch onto. Your mind does the rest, drawing out the full memory as you slowly pull your wand from your temple. Though this is a relatively simple process, the tricky part is concentrating on the image or emotion while simultaneously incanting the spell to pull them from your mind. Now, this is a nonverbal spell. It will not work if said aloud. Though I'm aware that it will be several years before you begin working with nonverbals in your Hogwarts curriculum, I believe that if you concentrate, you are perfectly capable of casting this one."

Zoe, her face lined with focus and determination, nodded her head. "I understand," she said.

Severus nodded once. "The spell is simply _Extrata Memoriam_."

"_Extrata_ _Memoriam_," Zoe repeated softly.

After a few moments of silence, she put her wand to her temple. Severus saw the telltale flash of pearlescent light where wand tip and temple met, but it faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. Zoe's shoulders hunched.

"Do not be discouraged," he said quickly in reassurance. "That was a very admirable attempt. Try again. This time focus on the memory first and foremost. Your magic will understand the spell, so it will inherently come much easier to you than the recall of the memory you wish to extract."

Zoe didn't acknowledge that he'd given her advice at all except to put her wand to her head once more. She closed her eyes this time and took a deep breath.

After over a minute of silence as Severus watched his daughter, she started to pull a long, silvery string of memories from her temple. When it had been fully extracted from her mind, Zoe opened her eyes and stared at the memory string attached to the tip of her wand with amazement. She looked past it, up to her father.

"What do I do with it now?"

Severus smirked. "You put it in your pensieve, silly girl."

"Right," Zoe said, her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment.

She took a step closer to the desk and put her wand over the edge of her brand new pensieve. Fluidly, the memories slid into the basin and began swirling within it.

"Wicked," Zoe let out breathily. Severus rolled his eyes, though he was mildly amused by her excitement and awe.

Zoe stepped away from the desk then, her brow wrinkled as if contemplating something. Severus arched a single eyebrow.

"One string of memories? Is that all you wish to extract?" he asked.

Zoe looked up at him sheepishly and then nodded. Then she bit her lip again. "Wait. No…" She put her wand to her temple again and then paused. She put it to her side. "No, I'm finished," she said.

Severus nodded and took a step toward their chairs.

"Wait!"

Severus stopped midstride and eyed his daughter, his brow furrowed.

"There's another I want to take out," she said.

Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well? Proceed," he said.

He watched as Zoe extracted another long strand of memory before she turned to walk toward their chairs.

"Are you certain you've removed everything you wish to remain private?" he asked.

"Yes," Zoe said, hopping into her wing-backed chair.

"There are no other incriminating misbehaviors you wish to keep from me before we begin?" he asked mockingly as he too resumed his seat.

The terrified look that passed over his daughter's face was priceless.

"Should I take those out? I won't get in trouble for something I did ages ago, will I?"

Severus pursed his lips. "I suppose that depends on the level of the infraction. If I happen to see something hurtful or in some way life-threatening, I cannot say that I will not react with an appropriate level of disappointment and austerity. However, I think I can manage to…_overlook_ anything else considering the incidences would have occurred in the past."

He could see Zoe thinking seriously, no doubt pondering several misdeeds in her head and judging the perceived severity of his reaction to them. After a minute, she looked him straight in the eye.

"There isn't anything that bad."

Severus inclined his head. "Are you ready to begin with Occlumency training, then?"

"Yes. I'm ready," Zoe said.

"All right. Take a deep breath and clear your mind."

And so the lesson began and progressed. By the end, Severus had to concede that his daughter had done very well. Though he'd kept their training to under an hour so as not to strain Zoe's young mind, in that time, the girl had advanced considerably. She didn't seem to have any trouble applying some form of pressure to his mind almost the second he entered her thoughts and that pressure had only increased with each subsequent invasion.

However, when he had explained to her about the mental barriers that proved much more stable in blocking intrusions, Zoe had seemed to flounder a bit. He knew that with more work, she would eventually understand the idea of making her mind a fortress, so he chose not to worry.

"Remember to clear your mind of any thoughts before falling asleep each night—and I shall know in our next lesson if you aren't practicing," Severus warned.

"I'll practice," Zoe assured.

Severus nodded.

"Have you packed?"

"The train doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon," the girl said, shrugging.

Severus gave her a stern look. "You haven't even started, in other words."

Again, Zoe shrugged, giving her father a mischievous grin. Honestly, Severus wasn't concerned. Zoe may do things in her own time sometimes, but she nearly always did as he asked. She was a very agreeable daughter, typically. That thought only made him feel guilty for what he was going to have to tell her now.

"About the train…," he began offhand. "I believe it best that you explain to your friends that your father has arranged with Professor McGonagall for you to Floo home rather than take the Hogwarts Express to London. Which means you'll stay behind when everyone goes to the station in Hogsmeade tomorrow."

"What?" Zoe said incredulously. "But all my friends are going back on the train. Lottie wanted me to meet her parents and her brother at King's Cross."

"I'm sure you'll meet them over the summer holidays. But for these holidays, we'll floo."

Zoe looked rather upset, but she was quiet as she moved her pensieve to the cabinet where Severus had designated a spot for it beside his. Once she had gathered her school robes and shrugged into them, she looked up at him with that melancholy green color in her eyes.

"I don't like that we have to be a secret."

Severus let out a heavy sigh, but he couldn't really think of anything that would make her feel better. "I know you don't," he said lowly after several moments.

The girl looked to the floor for a moment then locked eyes with him again. "I'm going to pack," she said, and moved to the door.

Severus didn't stop her. He would make it up to her. Perhaps they would order takeaway for dinner their first night back for the holidays.

* * *

><p><em><strong>If you post a review, I'll bake you cookies!<strong>_


	19. Surprise Visit, Surprising Skills

_**Hello, everyone! Here is chapter 19! I hope you all have been enjoying reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. As I stated before, the next few chapters take place during Zoe's Christmas holidays. Much of it is an author's indulgence, though there will be some intriguing plot developments, so keep your eyes peeled.**_

_**I have to first say that my reviewers are awesome and those that review regularly are even more awesome. I enjoy reading every one that I get. They seriously make my whole day. I also have to give a special shout out to **_**1066AndAllThat**_** for talking through with me the proper, British terminology for shoes (who knew the names were so different) which will play a role in this chapter and later.**_

_**Enjoy.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Surprise Visit, Surprising Skills<strong>

Zoe had voiced her upset with her father again regarding not being able to take the train to London as she stood on the front steps of Hogwarts Castle watching as the horseless carriages, carrying the vast majority of the students, pulled away on their way to the gates and Hogsmeade Station. She was among several professors and a handful of other students who had elected to remain at the school during the break.

She had spoken to him in a low tone, though only Minerva and Professor Lupin were within hearing range, stating to him that Lottie had been genuinely disappointed that Zoe wouldn't be able to meet her parents and brother, for she'd written home about it and received a reply that they were looking forward to it.

Her father's face had seemed to fall minutely with a look of genuine remorse.

"You will meet them at the summer holidays," he'd responded, a promise in his voice.

Zoe had opted to drop her resentment then, though she'd allowed him to spoil her with a takeaway dinner of curry and naan once they'd arrived at Spinner's End.

Two days later, the weather was cold and gloomy. Seeing as how it was miserable outdoors and her father was in his study writing correspondences, Zoe had chosen to spend the majority of the day working on her holiday homework. She sat on her bed taking notes for the Transfiguration essay Professor Lupin had assigned when she heard a noise.

It was an odd tap with a distinct rhythm to it, like someone beating a drum. However, the fierce wind whistling about the old, drafty house made it hard for her to discern where it was coming from exactly. She looked about her room, but there was nothing amiss and then she didn't hear it anymore. Shrugging, Zoe went back to her Transfiguration book.

_Tap, tap, tap!_

This time the sound was urgent and clearly against glass. Zoe looked up to the single window in her attic bedroom and saw none other than James Potter on a broomstick, trying with all his might to stay visible to her against the power of the wind.

Eyes wide, Zoe leaped off her bed to open the window. As she unclasped it, the whole thing flung out on its hinges with the force, crashing against the side of the house.

"What are you doing here?" she cried out to the boy who could do nothing but grin.

"Can I come inside?" James asked, practically yelling.

Zoe looked back behind her, worried that Ollie or her father would have heard the noise and come to investigate. She looked back at James.

"Can you hang on just one more second?"

He nodded and Zoe ran across her room and down the stairs to the floor below. In her socks, she crept through the attic door and up the corridor to peek into her father's study. He sat at his desk writing furiously on a scroll and didn't seem to have noticed the noise just above him. Satisfied, Zoe backtracked and was at her window upstairs seconds later.

"Yeah, come in," she called to James who nodded and grabbed onto the ledge of the window.

Zoe had to help him, but after a bit of struggling with the wind and the awkwardness of dismounting his broom, James was standing in her bedroom grinning mischievously at her. His dark hair was completely disheveled and unruly and his cheeks were flushed from the crisp winter air. He immediately ran a hand through his hair and collapsed into the chair at her desk.

"What a thrill," he said before he spied the books and parchment strewn out on her bed. "Ah, come on, don't tell me you're already starting on your homework? It's Christmas!"

Zoe sat on her bed and stared at the second year, amazed.

"Not for two more days. What are you doing here? And how did you know where I lived?" she asked, perhaps a bit more tersely than she intended.

James grinned again. "I have connections and I hear things," he said confidently. "And you said it was going to be dead boring for you here."

Zoe nodded. "So…"

"Well," James said, spreading out his arms as if presenting himself, "I'm here to make sure you don't die of boredom."

Zoe's jaw dropped. He'd really flown all the way from…wherever his house was to Spinner's End just to make sure she wasn't bored for the whole break? That was so…nice of him. But she could already see a flaw in his noble plan…

"How are you going to do that? Papa will kill us both if he finds out you're in this house. He hates you, remember?"

James merely waved his hand, unconcerned.

"He just hasn't warmed up to me yet, that's all."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, perhaps I'll just go tell him you're here and the two of you can get to know each other a little better—"

"NO!" James cried, rushing to head Zoe off as she headed for the staircase. "Maybe this can just be a secret for now?"

Zoe raised a single eyebrow at James and smirked. James really needed to learn that his overconfidence wasn't going to work on her, not in her own house anyway.

"All right, then. If you've really come to keep me company as you say, you didn't really think it out very well, did you? I mean, we can't leave my bedroom or Papa will see you and it isn't exactly outdoor weather…"

"Well… we could—" James began, but was cut off as the unmistakable sound of the attic door opening alerted their attention. Both children froze, their eyes wide.

"Zoe," her father's voice came from below. "May I come up?"

"Er, yes," Zoe responded, looking in earnest around the room for somewhere for James to hide.

"Under the bed!" she mouthed frantically, pointing to the bed as she heard her father's boots ascending the stairs.

James sprinted and was under it in a flash, pulling the quilt down to cover the gap between the bed frame and the floor as he disappeared from view. Zoe spun around, trying to make her face impassive, just as her father stepped up into her bedroom. Zoe smiled up at him.

"Hello, Papa."

Her father nodded at her before his gaze settled on the open window.

"Why on earth do you have your window open? It's freezing outside," he said, striding over and pulling the glass closed.

Zoe's eyes widened briefly at her father's turned back. She needed an excuse.

"Oh, er, I was hot," she spewed out.

Her father turned back, a frown gracing his features as he approached her.

"Are you feeling ill?" he asked, putting his hand to her forehead.

"I feel fine." For some reason it came out as little more than a squeak but her father nodded nonetheless.

"Very well," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I am going to Diagon Alley to send a long-distance correspondence and to purchase some supplies. Would you like to come along?"

Zoe desperately wanted to go. Diagon Alley was always decorated so beautifully during the holidays and perhaps she could persuade her father to let her enter Weasley's Wizard Wheezes this time for he seemed in quite a good mood today. Unfortunately, she had a Potter to deal with.

"Er, no, thank you," she said. "I think I'll stay here. I'm working on an essay and I want to finish it."

Her father's eyes flicked to the bed where all of her books and parchments were spread out. He looked back at her.

"If you wish. It pleases me that you are being so diligent with your studies. However, Ollie is at Hogwarts today. Do you think you can stay here for an hour or two on your own?"

"Yes, I'll be all right."

Her father inclined his head. "If there is an emergency, call for Minerva through the Floo." He leaned forward and hastily pecked a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "I shan't be gone long."

Zoe nodded.

"And stay away from the cellar, please. I have a very potent potion simmering that must not be disturbed."

"Okay, Papa."

Then her father turned and walked back down the stairs, closing the door behind him and Zoe let out a breath she wasn't aware that she had been holding.

"Whew! That was—"

Zoe held up her hand to stop James talking.

"What?" James asked, bewildered, as he came to stand beside her.

"Shh!" Zoe hissed.

It felt like several minutes passed by and then Zoe heard the unmistakable pop of her father's disapparition carried in through the whistle of the wind. He was gone. She turned to James and punched him square in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" James clutched his shoulder.

"Do you have any idea how angry he would have been if he'd caught you here? I probably would have had to pull weeds in the conservatory for a year!"

James merely shrugged. "But he didn't catch me."

Zoe huffed and sat down on her bed, staring at James while he looked around her room a bit, but didn't touch anything.

"It's so wicked that your bedroom is in the attic," he said offhand.

"Er, thanks," Zoe responded awkwardly.

He leaned in closer to a picture on her chest of drawers.

It was a wizarding photograph taken in the winter in Portree when Zoe was about three. She didn't remember it, but Minerva had told her the story of how, in one of her father's uncharacteristically graceless moves, he had slipped on a patch of ice as they took a walk along Loch Portree. He had been holding Zoe at the time and, in his effort to protect her from the fall, he had maneuvered himself to land almost flat on his back in a more cushioning snowdrift, lifting Zoe into the air and taking the brunt of the fall. Then he'd set her down on his torso, breathing heavily from relief and his exertion. The way she understood it, Zoe hadn't even realized she had been in danger and had giggled nearly uncontrollably.

In the photograph, her father's typical black ensemble and black cloak stood in stark contrast to the white powder that practically enveloped them. Zoe was dressed much more colorfully in purple robes, lavender wool tights, and a thick, cream-colored cloak with a fluffy, knitted hat atop her head. In her mittened hand was a clump of snow that she kept taking bites out of and then enthusiastically offering to her father. Many people probably would have seen an annoyed father thoroughly against indulging such play with a toddler, but Zoe could see that his mirthful eyes belied his frowning face and stern refusal.

She loved that photograph. She suddenly wrinkled her brow as a thought popped into her head.

"James?"

"Jamie."

"What?"

James turned to her, looking away from the papasan chair he had been prodding and testing out.

"My friends and family call me Jamie most of the time. I mean, James is fine too, but I just figured I'd tell you that."

"Oh," Zoe said, acknowledging his words, though she didn't know if she would consider them friends, per se, at least not enough to call him by a nickname. She felt it might be awkward. She shook herself, getting back to the reason she'd gained his attention.

"Did you know my father was Headmaster of Hogwarts once?"

James's eyes went wide for a second, though he slowly nodded his head.

"You mean, you didn't know that?" he asked, his brow wrinkled. "Blimey…"

Zoe was confused. "Why wouldn't he tell me that he was Headmaster? Why wouldn't Minerva tell me?" she wondered aloud. She saw James shrug.

"Maybe… maybe he doesn't really think much about it. I mean, it was only a year."

"Why?" Zoe asked.

"Er, because of the war, I guess. He, er, I don't think he wanted the job after it all ended. Professor McGonagall has been Headmistress ever since he stepped down."

"But, why wouldn't he want it?"

James fidgeted and looked away from her for a moment. "Maybe he just didn't like doing it. He doesn't seem to like kids much anyway…"

Zoe found that hard to believe, even though what James had said about her father not caring much for children was a bit true. He liked _her_, of course, but not other children, really. But Zoe also thought he would have enjoyed being the Head. After all, she'd heard him expound numerous times about various ways he would improve efficiency and discipline amongst the students, and Merlin knew he enjoyed being his own boss, answering almost exclusively to himself. There just seemed to be something missing.

"If you didn't already know that your dad was Headmaster, how did you find out?" James asked curiously, pulling Zoe from her thoughts.

"Oh, um, there's a portrait in Minerva's office that told me," Zoe said. "Do you know who Professor Dumbledore was?"

Now James seemed genuinely uncomfortable. A look of what appeared to be guilt crossed his face then. He nodded.

"So then—"

"Come on, show me your house," James interrupted Zoe as he headed for the stairs leading out of her bedroom.

Zoe rolled her eyes at his obvious dodge and, though she was annoyed, she followed him, catching up to him on the floor below. She halted on the small landing and pointed directly in front of her.

"That's the bathroom," she said. James turned to her, a look of mock-excitement on his face.

"Really? What do you do in there?"

Zoe glared at him. "Do you want a tour or not?"

"All right, all right. I was only joking. What's that door lead to?" he asked pointing to the closed door over Zoe's right shoulder, the one directly beside the one they had just exited.

"That's Papa's room," she stated. "We're not going in there."

James shrugged again before venturing to the open door of the study. He peered inside and nodded his head as if he approved of the room then he moved toward the stairs to the ground level of the house. Zoe moved quickly ahead of him to precede him so that she could dictate the tour from here on out.

When the two had exited the bookcase door and Zoe had closed it, she looked up and noticed that James was practically gaping around the sitting room.

"What?" Zoe asked, looking around, trying to figure out what was so amazing about the cramped space.

"Have you read all these books?" James asked.

"No," Zoe said, slightly bitter. "But Papa has. He…won't let me read most of them."

James looked at her a bit confused. "Won't let you read them? How come?"

Zoe shrugged. "He says I'm 'too young for such literature'. Besides, some are written in runes so I couldn't read those anyway."

"What about the ones that aren't written in runes?"

Zoe shrugged again. This was sort of a topic she had gotten over a couple of years before. However, James seemed to find it personally insulting that Zoe's father would keep her from reading the books in her own home. He quickly started to approach one of the shelves across the room.

"Well, I'm going to find out what Professor Snape doesn't want you to read about," he stated, reaching a hand toward a book that was nestled near the fireplace.

"NO!" Zoe shouted, rushing forward. "They're warded!"

James stopped immediately and drew his hand back.

"He'll know if one is taken from the shelf and I'll get into trouble," she informed him.

James looked at her, shocked, then back to the book with a look of disbelief before turning to Zoe, a mischievous gleam in his eye once more.

"You know, there's a way to get around wards. I've done it at my place. You just have to try to figure out what enchantments your dad uses and look up its counter."

"Yes, _James_, I know. I already learned the counter to the spell on the bookshelves ages ago. But don't you think I would prefer _not_ to have my father angry with me all the time? Of course, you probably don't understand that concept seeing as how you're _always_ in trouble."

Zoe immediately felt guilty for what she had said, but James didn't seem wounded by her words.

"Good one," he chuckled before turning away from her again. This boy could be so vexing! "Is that the kitchen?"

Zoe stomped over to the Gryffindor and crossed her arms over her chest. "Obviously," she stated dully as she followed James into the half kitchen, half dining area of the house.

He looked around, touching the cabinets and the table before the open door opposite Zoe attracted his attention.

"Brilliant! A cellar!" And before Zoe even had time to react, James was rushing down the stairs. She had to cross the kitchen quickly to catch up with him but she didn't manage it until the two children stood side-by-side in the cool air of her father's small laboratory.

James actually giggled next to her and Zoe shot him an annoyed glance.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked, eyeing Zoe with amusement.

"Well, if you think it's a potions laboratory, then yes, it is. My father's a _Potions Master_, remember? Come on, I'm not allowed down here." Zoe tried then to pull on James's arm and take him back upstairs, but he pulled away and started toward the workbench on the opposite side of the room.

"Not allowed?" he questioned.

"Didn't you hear what my father said? He has a potion brewing." She pointed to the workbench where a cauldron was simmering over a very low flame. "Besides, he doesn't like me down here by myself."

"We aren't going to disturb his precious potion… and he sure does have a lot of things that you aren't allowed to do. Not allowed to read the books in your sitting room, not allowed in the cellar, not allowed to fly a broom…" James ticked off fingers on one of his hands as he started looking around at the shelves full of ingredients and finished potions.

"He never said I couldn't _fly_ a broom, he just said I couldn't _have_ a broom. There's a difference," Zoe clarified.

James stopped just before reaching to touch one vial on a low shelf that had piqued his curiosity. Zoe didn't even think he was listening to her.

"Does he ward these too?" he asked, pointing to the vials.

Zoe shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Zoe narrowed her eyes at the boy as he picked up the vial.

"Al—my brother—would have a heyday in here. He loves potions. He told me he can't wait to start at Hogwarts next year so he can brew more than just the easy remedies with Mum and Gran."

"That's great," Zoe said, getting irritated. "Put that down."

"Are you afraid I'll drop it?" James asked, an insincere hurt to his facial expression.

"Yes," Zoe stated plainly, her temper rising.

James merely grinned and waggled the vial in front of him. Zoe scowled and stomped to the boy, reaching out to grab the vial but as her fingers touched it, James, obviously assuming Zoe already had a hand on it, released his grasp and, as if in slow motion, the vial fell and crashed to the concrete floor.

For what felt like an eternity, the two children just stared at the broken glass and bluish liquid covering the stone floor at their feet. Then, slowly, Zoe looked up at James who was studying her reaction. She clenched her fists as her anger built up in her. Why couldn't he have just put it back instead of teasing her with it? All anger quickly rushed out of her system, however, as anxiousness rushed in to replace it.

"We have to clean it up," she said urgently to James. "There are flannels in that cabinet there."

James nodded dazedly and rushed for the cabinet Zoe had indicated, returning moments later. He helped her to soak up the liquid and then the two of them carefully picked up every single piece of the tiny shards of glass from the vial. Zoe wrapped them in the towel and then threw it away in the bin beside the worktable. She looked at the shelf James had taken the potion from and quickly pulled other potions forward in order to give the impression that none of the bottles or vials had gone missing. Nodding to James, the two children left the cellar and walked back through the house, not stopping until they had reached the attic once more.

"Do you think Professor Snape will notice?" James asked once they had reentered Zoe's bedroom and taken their former seating positions.

Zoe shook her head. "I don't know."

James nodded solemnly. "Hopefully he won't. We cleaned it up really well."

Zoe merely nodded, staring off into space.

"Well, I better go. Mum said I had to be back by dinner. She thinks I'm at the house of my Muggle friends down the road. See you at school. Happy Christmas," he said as he crawled back up onto the windowsill with his broom, looking one last time at Zoe. "He'll never notice. I'm sure of it."

Then James was gone leaving Zoe to ponder her own fate. And it didn't take long—twenty minutes after James's departure, maybe.

She heard the apparition outside first and listened closely to the disjointed sounds of her father moving through the house. When she could no longer hear him moving, Zoe could only imagine he had made his way to the cellar to catalogue and store the potions supplies he had purchased. After nearly fifteen minutes had passed, Zoe started to rest easy. Surely if her overly-observant father hadn't discovered the missing vial by now, he—

"_Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth Snape."_

Her father's deep, menacing voice spoke her full name and Zoe instantly tensed, her eyes wide. She knew he hadn't shouted for he never did when his voice took that particular timbre, but it resonated through the house nonetheless by the use of a Sonorous charm. "Cellar. _Now_."

Zoe rose from her bed and started the journey down to her father's laboratory. She dragged her feet in an effort to slow the trip somewhat, but the house wasn't exactly large and soon she was coming down into the cellar.

Her father's scowl was epically deep and Zoe immediately spotted the damning blue-soaked rag on the worktable beside him. There was no way she was going to get out of this one.

She left the stairs then and walked to the middle of the lab, facing her father, and stopped. She watched as he closed his eyes briefly as if composing himself before looking back at her, his eyes blazing.

"Explain to me," he began lowly. "How it is that this cloth, soaked in potion, happened to find its way into the rubbish bin. Then, please explain how a single vial of the same potion is now missing from that shelf."

Zoe watched her father warily. She knew, of course, that he didn't know anything of James being there, but he most definitely knew that she had entered into his laboratory without his expressed consent—after he had told her specifically not to go down there—and that meant that she was out-of-bounds.

_Merlin, I am going to kill James Potter for this,_ Zoe thought, lowering her eyes to the floor.

"I… I accidently dropped the vial on the floor."

"Why were you in the cellar to begin with? Did I not tell you that I had a potion brewing and request that you leave it be?"

"Is it ruined?" Zoe asked anxiously, looking to the cauldron that still seemed to be simmering on its flame.

"It's fine, but that is not the point."

Once again, Zoe found that she needed to tell him something without implicating James in the whole thing—it would just make things worse if he knew she hadn't been alone in the house while he'd been away.

"I just wanted to…er, look around. I was curious." _Awful, awful_ _excuse_._ He'll see right through that._

"It would appear you did more than look," her father said harshly. "You broke a full vial and, though I imagine that was an unintentional act resulting from your disobedience, it is clear from the flannel in the bin and the way you moved the vials around that you tried to cover up your transgression. Do I seem to have the way of things?"

"Yes, sir," Zoe said softly.

"Why did you not simply come tell me what had happened to the vial when you heard me apparate into the garden rather than leave it for me to discover?"

Zoe, looking to her feet, shook her head to indicate that she didn't know. Why _hadn't_ she just come tell him? Now that she thought about it, she'd probably be in a lot less trouble now if she had and she wouldn't necessarily have had to tell him about James being there, either. He would probably just have scolded her for disobeying and given her a long lecture on the dangers of the lab…again. Now, she most certainly faced a punishment.

The silence that followed was excruciating.

Zoe could feel her father watching her. She had a small feeling that he didn't really believe that she had just been down there to look around, but he didn't say anything about it and she winced when she chanced a glance up to the severe expression on his face.

This was awful. She wished her father would just yell at her and get it over with. Eventually, he turned away from her, tossing the cloth back into the bin in which he had found it. Zoe heard him sigh heavily.

"What is the primary rule I have always asked you to follow in regards to this laboratory and my lab at Hogwarts?" he asked uncharacteristically soft, his back still turned to her as he leaned heavily on the workbench.

Zoe took a deep, fortifying breath.

"Not to come in here without you with me," she mumbled, looking to the ground once more.

Her father turned and gave a subtle nod and walked toward her. When he was standing directly in front of her, Zoe looked up at him, but couldn't really meet his eyes. "Do you know why I have set that rule?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes. Because you don't want me to get hurt; there are dangerous potions and ingredients down here."

"Just so. Despite the recent revelation of your understanding and skills in brewing, at eleven, you are not yet proficient in potion-making and I do not wish for you to be poisoned or injured due to that ignorance, no matter how careful you may think you are being. Before today, I didn't anticipate this rule to be a difficult request for you to follow and I trusted that you were old enough to obey my wishes. Now, it appears that trust has been misplaced. From today forward, this cellar will be warded at its entrance when I am not occupying it. And you, young lady, are on restriction for the duration of the holidays. You will do your homework, you will do your typical chores, and you will work with me in the conservatory should I need your assistance—nothing more. No outings whatsoever and you are not to wander beyond our own garden. You will attend the ball at Malfoy Manor on Christmas Eve only because we are both expected to attend and because the dress I purchased you cannot be returned—so I'd advise you make the most of it."

Zoe nodded. "What about New Years' Eve?" she asked timidly. "You said I could stay overnight with Minerva."

"I think you know the answer to that," her father said, a scathing annoyance creeping into his tone. "You may owl your godmother after dinner and let her know." He shook his head. "I don't know how to impress upon you how disappointed I am with your actions and decisions today."

He looked on her for several moments, letting his words fully hit home.

"I'm sorry," Zoe said softly, looking at her shoes and feeling ashamed. Her father didn't respond but to sigh heavily.

"Go to your room," he said finally, resignedly. "I will call you for dinner."

Zoe nodded again and turned to make her way back upstairs, finding it a bit ironic that James's supposed solution to boredom had just assured her that she would experience even more boredom over the holidays than she would have before.

Most of all, however, Zoe was disconcerted by her father's words to her. He had said he was disappointed in her and for some reason that resonated more than the sentence of restriction did. She could remember only one other time when her father had said that she had disappointed him—a long time ago, when they had gone to Ventnor for the first time.

Of course, her father had raged at her before, he had said her questions were sometimes irritating and he had punished her for misbehavior, but this time it felt different. This time, Zoe felt truly ashamed. Perhaps it was the lie she had told him to protect James… She'd been lying to him a lot lately where James was concerned… or at least keeping information from him…

Nonetheless, he didn't trust her anymore; that was what he had said. How was she to go about earning that back? She didn't know, but she knew Minerva would. However, now it didn't look like she would have any time to talk to her godmother alone until the new term started. By then, she didn't know where she would stand in regards to her father's trust.

Entering into her bedroom, Zoe walked to her bed and lay down, facing the wall. She wished James had never come over, despite his good intentions. She never wanted to talk to him again. _He's going to pay for this_, Zoe thought half-heartedly as silent tears started to roll down her face.

* * *

><p>As Severus prepared a stew, he started to feel the now familiar feeling that perhaps he had been harsher with his daughter than was necessary. After all, she'd seemed beyond repentant and remorseful which, if he was honest with himself, was somewhat out of character for her. She was by no means typically obstinate in regards to being reprimanded for behavior she knew to be unacceptable, but she also didn't typically seem so downhearted. He'd raised her to take responsibility for her actions, to own them, right or wrong, and to understand that there were consequences for every decision a person makes. He knew she understood this, but this shameful, sorrowful compliance with little defense was not his daughter. Something didn't feel right about this situation…<p>

She _had_ disobeyed him, however; that much was true. And, though he knew that Zoe was intelligent and she had spent years listening to him caution her about the proper handling of potions, this afternoon she'd put herself in a rather dangerous situation. Perhaps it was foolish of him not to ward the cellar when a concoction as volatile as the Fire-Protection Potion was brewing, but he'd genuinely trusted the girl to stay away for he'd never had this issue with her before. As it was, she'd put her life at risk as well as the house in danger had her clumsiness reared its head during in her time in the cellar. And, though she may not have done anything on purpose, as with the headache potion, she may have inadvertently broken a more potent serum container and the results could have been catastrophic.

No, at eleven, his daughter was not yet to a stage where he could have permitted her in the cellar on her own and now, her actions today had set her back as far as her father was concerned. She was learning the hard way that some actions carried long-term consequences such as damaged trust.

"Zoe!" Severus called up to his daughter with a slightly magically-enhanced voice as he'd dished out two bowls of stew and set them on the table. He poured Zoe a glass of milk and moved to bring out a bottle of red wine for himself when he realized there had been no response, no footfalls above to indicate his daughter was on her way down. Severus moved to the sitting room, opened the door to the stairs, and called her name again. Still no answer so he started up the stairs on his own.

Severus knew his daughter was prone to brooding after she'd been disciplined and, therefore, he assumed she was merely ignoring his summons. Upon entering her attic bedroom, he saw his daughter lying in her daybed facing away from the door and so he approached and sat down beside her.

"Zoe," he said as kindly as he could, knowing she was penitent for her actions earlier. He reached out and touched her shoulder, encouraging her to turn to look at him.

Zoe turned, but her gaze stayed at her waist and Severus immediately felt a pang in his chest upon seeing her tearstained face and puffy eyes. She just stared down, waiting for him to say something to her.

"I called you twice," he stated, trying his best to keep his tone from sounding like a scold. "Dinner is waiting."

The girl nodded. "I didn't hear," she said softly.

Severus looked at his daughter. She was much too melancholy to be upset about being punished and the strange sense that there was more going on here took him over once more.

"Zoe, is there more that I should be made aware of regarding the incident in the laboratory?" he asked, going out on a limb.

Her eyes immediately went to his, though her expression was remarkably unreadable, even to him.

"No. Why would you think that?"

Severus raised a single eyebrow. "No reason. Come to dinner."

The girl rose then and followed him down the two flights of stairs and to the kitchen. The Snapes ate in silence that night and when Zoe briefly hugged her father before going to bed, he heard her whisper another apology in his ear. She left the room before he could respond properly and Severus couldn't help but feel that there was much more bothering his eleven-year-old than he had thought.

* * *

><p>In all honesty, Zoe had had quite the jumble of emotions that night. After she'd been sent to her room, she'd been very upset about having gotten into trouble, for having disappointed her father. But as her mind had shifted to the lies she had told him, her thoughts had then inadvertently drifted to the information she had picked up about her father from James and from Dumbledore's portrait. She hadn't really thought about that much in the last few days.<p>

James knew that her father had been Headmaster of Hogwarts. Why was it that James Potter knew so much more about her own father than she did? Why wouldn't he have told her that? Zoe felt that it was quite an achievement. Wouldn't he have been proud of having risen to such a high position at the best school of magic there was? It just didn't make any sense that he would keep such an accomplishment from her.

As Zoe thought about this, a horrible feeling of hurt took her over and made her so exceptionally melancholy that she didn't know how to keep it at bay. Was it the trust thing again? Did her father not trust her to know about his accomplishments? And if that was the case, what could she have done to lose that particular bit of trust?

These thoughts led to an even worse mixture of emotions for there was a tiny bit of resentment toward her father at that moment, but then Zoe would think about how far they'd come, how well they'd been getting on since they had made amends for the Legilimency incident. Zoe didn't want to hold any anger toward him now, but the growing feeling that she was being kept in the dark regarding his past… It was proving almost overwhelming to try to keep the offense and irritation at bay.

She had been so wrapped in her own thoughts that she genuinely hadn't heard him call. And it wasn't until just before he had come to call her to dinner that she had decided not to hold onto any anger, but to start in on her own research about him. After all, James had said he was in history books and there was a whole section of history books in the library at Hogwarts. She would start there upon her arrival back after the holidays.

Therefore, choosing to put her curiosity and hurt aside while there was so little she could do while in Spinner's End, Zoe had awoken two days later on Christmas Eve looking forward to the day. Yes, she was on restriction, but it hadn't been so bad so far, for it was much too cold and miserable outdoors for her to _really_ feel the effects of the house arrest that had been imposed. Though, just _knowing_ that she was tied to the house if she _did_ want to go somewhere was enough to keep her on the straight and narrow.

But Christmas Eve night was the one time when her father had said that he would be unable to impose her punishment and Zoe fully intended to relish her time out of the house and in the opulence and company that was the Malfoy Christmas Ball.

Therefore, when the package and note had arrived by owl that day, everything had seemingly been ruined.

Ollie had shaken her awake earlier than Zoe would have liked considering it was the holidays, but she had risen nonetheless, dressed, half-heartedly made her bed, and headed down to breakfast. When she had arrived in the sitting room, her father was situated in the green armchair that he preferred, having magically transported it, once again, from Hogwarts to Spinner's End. He was drinking from a mug of coffee and he quickly set it down to fold the _Daily_ _Prophet_ as Zoe walked into the room. Zoe barely noticed him tucking it between his leg and the arm of the chair, out of sight.

He cleared his throat and greeted her.

"Good morning."

"Mornin', Papa," Zoe said with a yawn, collapsing onto one side of the sofa and laying her head against the arm. She just wanted to snooze a bit longer…

"Do not go back to sleep," he said. "There is much to do today."

"Like what?" Zoe groaned sleepily, keeping her eyes fully clamped closed.

"Like cleaning the sty that is your bedroom."

"Are you going to help me clean it with magic?" she asked hopefully, opening her eyes to look at her father.

"I don't believe that I contributed to the disarray."

Zoe shrugged, conceding his point. "Can _I_ use magic to clean it, then? Or can Ollie help me?"

The stern, disapproving look her father aimed at her was all the response she needed; she knew his answer was no to both questions. Her bedroom was her responsibility—always. She sighed heavily.

"What else is there to do?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I thought we'd have another Occlumency lesson later."

Zoe nodded. "All right, but you won't let us work more than an hour or so with that…"

"Your point?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, so, that won't take long, so why did you say there's 'much to do'?"

"Ah. The way you dawdle with your chores, it seemed only logical to assume it would take you all day to clean your bedroom. I am merely making you aware that it will be cleaned today _before_ I expect you to be in this sitting room, ready to disapparate to the ball, by quarter to six. Therefore, some Occlumency is on the agenda, then sufficient time for you to clean and prepare yourself for the ball, which you _will_ need to allot time to shower for."

Zoe wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained for obvious reasons.

"I _know_," she still said emphatically, annoyed that her father would assume she'd argue the hygiene point.

Breakfast passed, Occlumency lessons went well, for the most part, as it was mainly more meditation and, by lunchtime, Zoe's bedroom was practically spotless.

She walked into the kitchen to find that Ollie had prepared a simple platter of lunchmeats, cheeses, and breads for her and her father to build their own sandwiches. The house elf was nowhere in sight, however, though Zoe imagined she was preparing her and her father's formal clothing for that night. Ollie tended to make a fuss over them the day of the Christmas ball to make sure everything was clean, pressed, and presentable.

Her father arrived to eat soon after her and they were nearly halfway through the meal when the familiar scratching of an owl's talon on the window over the sink alerted their attention.

"It's Leto," Zoe said as she jumped up quickly to let the bird inside, recognizing it immediately as the Malfoys' eagle owl.

The bird hopped through the open window and came to rest on the edge of the sink. When she held out her leg, Zoe untied what appeared to be a tiny box that was flashing between white and green, as well as a minute scroll. As soon as she'd relieved Leto of her burdensome parcel and given her a piece of ham, the owl gave a hoot, and hopped out the window once more, flying away.

Zoe quickly closed the window to keep the chill out and turned to hand the strange, small package and scroll to her father at the table.

"Why's it flashing?" she asked, sitting back down and taking a bite of her sandwich.

Her father looked the box over. It was barely any bigger than a snitch and the scroll couldn't have been bigger than Zoe's little finger.

"It's a signal to warn that these would be best opened after releasing the shrinking charm that is upon them."

"Oh," Zoe said, intrigued, as her father set the items to the side of his plate. "Well, aren't you going to release the charm?"

"Not now. You may open your package and letter after you've finished your lunch."

"_My_ package and letter?"

Her father raised an eyebrow. "Did you not look to see who they were addressed to?"

He held the tiny package out to her. Zoe had assumed that, coming from the Malfoys, the items were for her father, yet, there in curly handwriting was the name: Zoe Snape.

"Why would they send me something?" Zoe asked. After all, though the Malfoys were technically family friends, Astoria Malfoy only tended to send Zoe the obligatory birthday and Christmas card, signed as though they came from the whole family. Though, she was always very kind in person. Zoe actually rather liked her, even if her son was one of Zoe's least favorite people ever.

"I imagine you may find out once you've finished your lunch," her father said matter-of-factly.

Zoe took another large bite of her sandwich, chewed, and gulped down the rest of her milk.

"I'm finished," she said, causing her father to purse his lips in disapproval.

Nonetheless, he pulled his wand from the sleeve of the white, linen shirt he'd donned that day and waved it over the package and scroll, which grew in size before Zoe's eyes. As most children do, she went for the parcel first, ignoring the written missive beside it.

Opening the plain, brown box and pushing back the wrappings, Zoe's face alit with excitement as she lifted the items out to show her father.

"Shoes for the ball!" she exclaimed. "And they have _heels_!"

The shoes were simple, satin, and black with a high tongue, a rounded toe, and a silver, decorative buckle across the top. The heel was probably no more than an inch in height, but with her father's rather conservative view of what was appropriate clothing for a young witch her age, Zoe was ecstatic just for that.

"Read your letter," he said, frowning and pushing the scroll across the table toward her. When Zoe set the shoes on the table, he picked one up and examined it, a look of something akin to revulsion on his face.

Zoe snatched up the scroll and began to read what appeared to be a rather formal letter.

_Dear Miss Snape,_

_We are pleased that you have accepted our invitation to our annual Christmas Ball. However, we would like to inform you of a long-standing tradition. Upon entering the first year at Hogwarts, it is customary for those of age to make the transition from the children's party into the ballroom with the adults for the formal Ball. There, you will experience music, dancing, and leisurely conversation with attending guests, as well as a large array of complimentary beverages and hors d'oeuvres. We look forward to seeing you there._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco and Astoria Malfoy_

_Hosts_

At the bottom, a postscript was hastily scrawled in Mrs. Malfoy's beautiful hand:

_P.S. Owing to my assumption that your father would be quite clueless regarding the proper, grown-up footwear for a girl attending her first ball, I have enclosed a simple pair of kitten heels. The size may be adjusted for comfort with a simple charm._

_Astoria_

Zoe rolled the scroll back up and laid it softly upon the table as a sudden anxiousness overtook her.

"What's the matter?" her father asked, his brow suddenly wrinkled as he caught sight of the expression on her face. "What does it say?"

Zoe met his eyes, staring into them for only a few moments before she stood from her chair.

"I'm _not_ going to the Ball!" she shouted before running from the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Severus remained in his seat completely bewildered as to what that scene had been all about, as well as highly irritated by his daughter's complete lack of respect and ungrateful attitude toward the gift she had received. He reached across the table and took up the scroll. After reading it through twice, nothing stuck out to him that would indicate why Zoe had become so put out in such record time.<p>

Severus stood then to go find his daughter. Zoe was going to the ball whether she wanted to or not and he would make it very clear to her that the behavior she had just conveyed was far from acceptable.

When he entered into her attic bedroom in full-scold mindset, he found her lying on her stomach on her bed, her face buried in the pillows.

"Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth, you _are_ going to this ball," he said as an announcement of his presence. "Sit up and look at me."

The girl obeyed, albeit reluctantly. She sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes boring into him rather angrily.

"I don't want to go," she said simply.

"You're going," Severus responded, just as succinct.

"No!"

"_Do_ _not_ shout at me," Severus commanded through clenched teeth, his patience wearing thin.

"You never care what I want! You always force me to do things I don't want to!" she cried melodramatically as she turned and buried her face in the pillows again.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in frustration. He didn't know what was going on, but he was well aware that Zoe's obstinacy only ever increased with pressure from him and he was not in the mood for a power struggle at that moment. It was time to change tactics.

Therefore, he took a deep breath—fortifying his patience—and crossed the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He remained quiet, for he still hadn't figured out how to diffuse the situation while simultaneously making his daughter aware that this was something non-negotiable, yet also consider her feelings on the matter.

"Please don't make me go," Zoe said, her voice muffled.

"You are hardly in a position to request anything of me when you will neither give me the courtesy of looking at me nor give me a reasonable explanation of how one moment, you could be bouncing around in enthusiasm and delight, and the next, shouting and disrespectful."

His daughter did not respond. This aggravated Severus again, so he put a hand on her shoulder firmly, the pressure encouraging her to sit up once more and look at him. Though, she didn't do the latter. She merely looked to her knees.

"Let's have it," he sighed. "What is it that has you acting so obstreperous?"

Zoe shook her head. "You won't understand," she mumbled.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Oh, please," he said, annoyed. "You're eleven. Try me."

He watched his daughter wrinkle her nose at his indifference before taking a deep breath. Finally, she turned her eyes on him and he saw that they were the melancholy green he'd come to recognize as the color of despair, shame, and helplessness. She bit her lower lip in a show of anxiousness.

After several moments, she spoke.

"I don't know how to dance," Zoe said then, her voice low. In fact, she looked away from him as soon as she'd spoken.

Severus opened his mouth to respond and closed it once more, having said nothing. He wrinkled his brow.

As the full weight of what she'd said sunk in, he let out a quick bark of laughter. It wasn't a sound he made often, but it had been elicited by the ridiculousness of Zoe's statement coupled with the thought of her behavior over the last several minutes and he simply couldn't help it.

He quickly composed himself, however, when the girl shot him a fierce scowl that would rival one of his own.

"It's not funny, Papa," she scolded.

He shook his head, a small smirk still in place on his face.

"This is honestly the cause of your dramatics?" he asked more mirthful than he'd spoken in some time.

Zoe nodded. "Yes," she said weakly. "I suppose so."

Severus shook his head. "Dancing is hardly required, Zoe, and I doubt anyone will expect you to participate, nor be offended if you don't."

"But, what if they do? What if I'm _asked_? What if… what if I want to dance?"

Severus tilted his head to the side, appraising his daughter. He'd never have thought that she would deem something like this as overly important. He was rather surprised.

Zoe didn't make a sound as he sat there, thinking things over. She was looking down at her duvet, picking at invisible fuzz along its surface.

Severus stood suddenly.

"Go fetch your new shoes. They'll need to be broken in," he said, making his way to the stairs. "And meet me in the study."

He smirked even more when he caught Zoe's bewildered look before making his way downstairs to his own bedroom. After all, he happened to have a brand new pair of black Oxfords that would also need some breaking in and, though he'd originally intended to use a spell for such a thing, spending the rest of the afternoon doing it the old-fashioned way would suffice.

Having donned his dress shoes, he waited in the middle of the study, his hands clasped behind his back, after magically pushing his desk toward the window and temporarily vanishing the chair that normally sat in front of it. It wasn't a large area, but it would be sufficient space for what he had in mind.

Zoe arrived in the study, her new shoes in hand. She paused just inside the door and looked down to his polished shoes, then up to him, the crease in her forehead wrinkling with confusion.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We're going to kill two birds with one stone. Go on, change into the heels."

Zoe still looked confused, but she crossed to the tiny, old sofa and replaced her trainers with the kitten heels. When they were on, she looked up to him expectantly.

Severus crossed to her and held out a hand. Tentatively, Zoe took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She wobbled slightly, not used to wearing shoes that were not flat to the ground. He led her back to the middle of the room, making sure to move slowly in order to give the girl time to become accustomed to walking.

Once there, he let go of her hand, allowing her to stand on her own. Then, he came around to stand directly in front of her. He took her left hand and placed it on his shoulder and took her right in his left.

"_You_ know how to _dance_?" Zoe asked, finally catching on to what he was doing and, apparently, flabbergasted at such a notion.

"I'm far from being an expert, but I had the benefit of a pureblood grandmother who could not bear the thought of a grandson who did not know at least the very basics of proper ballroom dancing," he said, sliding his wand out of his sleeve and into his hand. "I fear it has been decades since I've put the skills to any use, however, so you shall have to bear with me."

He then waved it toward the old phonograph, which rested on the lowest shelf of one of the bookcases behind his desk. He hadn't used it since Zoe was very small. Then, the music had often been played on low to soothe her into sleep as a baby. Now, it would be used to boost her confidence and, with any luck, give her at least a rudimentary sense of rhythm for dancing.

When a classical piece began to play, Severus tossed his wand onto the cushion of the sofa behind him and took up his daughter's hand once more.

"Now, I understand that you are…_independent_," he said dryly. "However, when it comes to dancing, it is best to allow the boy you are dancing with to take the lead—for his confidence, if nothing else."

Zoe giggled and nodded, concentrating as much as she ever did in her various other lessons.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Well? I can't know if you liked it or hated it unless you tell me. So leave a review! After all, Legilimency is hard. Especially for we Muggles.<em>**


	20. Christmas Eve

**Yay! Chapter 20! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter and thanks so much if you posted a review! I always love to hear from you all! Keep them coming! Please, don't judge me for my uncreative chapter title here, though. :)**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Christmas Eve<strong>

Zoe had more fun at the event than she'd ever had there before, for the adult ball was, indeed, much more exciting than the children's party had ever been—just as she'd suspected—and she was elated at having been admitted into the Grand Ballroom of Malfoy Manor at last.

It was a beautiful room, to say the least. The ceilings were immensely tall and covered in beautifully painted frescos of wizards, witches, dragons, phoenixes, and other creatures of legend partaking in some epic journey. Two opposite walls were covered in enormous moving portraits of men on horseback or families sitting on chairs looking pensively toward the edges of the frames, observing the guests before them. Directly across from the entrance with its creamy walls and gilded detailing, was a wall of high windows embedded between sets of equally-tall, glass French doors that opened out onto a wide, tiled terrace with seating around the edges and a grand fountain in the middle.

Despite her overall excitement, when they had first arrived, Zoe had stayed close to her father, having never really been comfortable meeting new people, especially in a situation that was similarly as new. However, early on, some very elegantly-dressed witches had complimented her on her knee-length, festively-red chiffon dress as well as her new shoes and that had helped her ease into her surroundings considerably.

She was at ease, but that didn't mean that she wasn't a bit uncomfortable and utterly flabbergasted when a woman approached her and her father as he was chatting with Mr. Malfoy.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," the middle-aged woman greeted him.

Her father inclined his head. "Professor Jarvis," he acknowledged.

"I see your daughter has finally come to an age to attend the formal ball," she said conversationally, eyeing Zoe.

Zoe watched as her father's eyes shifted down to her momentarily before settling upon Professor Jarvis once more. He looked like he had a good idea of where the impromptu conversation was heading and he was not going to enjoy it particularly.

"Indeed."

"You see," the woman said, her voice growing low and conspiratorial as she laid a hand on the arm in which her father was holding his glass of wine. "I've brought my middle son, Miles, along this year and he has been enamored with this charming girl since the pair of you walked in. If you would be so kind as to give your consent, he would like to dance with her."

Zoe's father arched a single eyebrow. "And where might your son be?"

"He's just there," Professor Jarvis pointed to a boy of maybe thirteen with dark blond hair and a spotty complexion standing against the wall near the drinks table. He glanced their way, but looked away almost immediately and shuffled his feet.

"Mr. Jarvis does not have the courage to approach me himself?" her father inquired a bit condescendingly.

"Well, of course, he does. He just— Well, I mean—" Professor Jarvis seemed quite flustered in the face of her father's perfectly valid, but weighted question. "Yes, I'll just go get him."

Then the woman bustled away toward her son. Zoe looked up to her father.

"She isn't a Hogwarts professor," she said.

Her father shook his head. "No. She teaches at Beauxbatons. Charms, I believe. She sends her sons there as well. Her husband is the ambassador to the French Ministry for Magic."

"Why does that boy have to ask _you_ to dance with _me_?" Zoe inquired then, unabashedly getting to her real question regarding the conversation that had just taken place.

Her father gave a heavy sigh. "Because that is traditionally how it is done in wizarding society, especially among the wealthy and pureblooded. The movements of young witches and wizards are controlled very strictly by their mothers and any permission that is needed is granted by their fathers."

"Why?"

"It's how it has been done for centuries."

"Right. So… I have to dance with her son now since she asked you?" Zoe asked, a bit perturbed at the thought of having little or no say in the matter simply because of some dumb, old-fashioned tradition.

Her father looked her directly in the eye. "No. I will not force you to dance with anyone. Similarly, you do not need my permission to dance with one of these boys here—if you wish to—for had I not desired for you to take advantage of and enjoy the event, we would have remained at home this evening."

Zoe nodded her understanding—relieved that her father wasn't so conservative about this particular point—and turned her attention to Professor Jarvis and her son who seemed to be having a rather heated discussion. Miles didn't look too pleased about being coerced.

"However," her father added, observing the same exchange. "I also feel that it is only polite and proper that the young men come and ask for your hand, and be granted permission or kindly rejected, rather than being paired with you in an archaic transaction between your respective parents."

"Why do you suppose she wants him to dance with me anyway?"

"In the hopes you will become betrothed, of course."

"What?" Zoe's eyes were wide in incredulity.

"Oh, yes. It isn't uncommon for some wizarding families to arrange their child's marriage at birth. By many old standards, I've been rather remiss in my duties as your father."

Zoe saw him smirk down at her and she knew he was teasing. Though, she didn't trust Professor Jarvis's motives in the slightest. She looked over to see that the woman was all but dragging her son toward them by the loose fabric of his sleeve with determination in her facial features.

"What should I do?" Zoe asked a bit urgently.

"Do you not wish to dance?" her father asked.

"Well, I do, but _he_ doesn't really want to. He's just going to ask because his mum is making him."

"Perhaps," her father said, inclining his head. "Or perhaps he desires it, but is as timid as he seems and merely needs a bit of…encouragement."

Zoe nodded to her father and turned to the mother and son just as they came to a halt before them. She gave the elder boy a weak smile. He looked to the floor.

"Er, Professor Snape, sir—" The boy's voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Er, would it be all right if I, er… what I mean to say is, would you mind if I danced with your daughter?"

Zoe watched Miles glance up at the professor who was well over a head taller than he, but quickly averted his eyes. She felt rather sorry for him. After all, her father was just staring at him, sizing him up. He hadn't said anything and Zoe knew he was doing it on purpose. That's what her father did: he gave so much intimidating pause after a question that the questioner couldn't help but feel awkward and dumb for asking it. Zoe thought her father enjoyed seeing insubordinates squirm, as if he got some sort of satisfaction or amusement out of their discomfort.

Knowing this, she lightly bumped into his arm with her shoulder. He looked down on her with a raised eyebrow and Zoe shot him an annoyed look that she hoped communicated to him that she wanted him to be nice. He cleared his throat authoritatively.

"My permission is granted," he said then. "However, I find it rather presumptuous of you to assume that the sole consent lies with me."

Miles looked up at him then, a confused expression on his face. "Sir?"

"You are not intending to dance with me, are you, Mr. Jarvis?"

"No, sir!"

"Then, would it not also be pertinent to find out if the young witch you are attempting to woo is not only amenable to your company, but also prepared to be tolerant of your presumably mediocre coordination?"

Miles frowned and looked back at his mother, who only gave him a nod of encouragement. He turned back to look at Zoe.

"Er, Miss Snape, would you like to dance?" he asked, clearly a bit agitated by the whole situation.

Zoe looked up to her father and saw him give her a nearly imperceptible nod. It wasn't giving his approval or encouragement for her to dance; it was conveying to Zoe that the decision rested with her. As he'd said, he would not make her do it.

She gave him a subtle smile and turned back to Miles.

"It's Zoe. And, yeah, all right. Come on," Zoe said, taking the boy's hand and striding quickly away from the adults and toward the middle of the large room to the dance floor.

Dancing with Miles Jarvis hadn't been so bad. He just had sweaty hands and didn't have much to say. Though, he did step on her feet twice and he _had_ told her that his mother was dead-set on him and his brothers marrying witches from respectable families, which is why she was so insistent that he dance with Zoe. How Zoe and her father fit the bill of "respectable family" to Miles's mother, she didn't know. Nor did she know why Madam Jarvis was so adamant that he looked for a suitable marriage now. He was still just a kid, as was she.

Over the next couple of hours, Zoe was asked to dance three more times. Only one of the boys seemed genuinely interested and un-coerced in doing so, however—a sixteen-year-old by the name of Jonas Webster who told her that he attended a small wizarding school on the continent called the Sparks Conservatory of Magical Arts.

However, Zoe didn't dance with him for more than a minute before her father cut in.

He had a rather sour look upon his face at first, though the triumph in his eyes was evident when a single scowl had Jonas walking briskly away from the dance floor and out of sight.

"You scared him, Papa," Zoe admonished, but she took her father's offered hand despite her annoyance.

"Did I?" He didn't seem concerned in the slightest—he never did.

Zoe gave him a disapproving look.

"He was much too old for you to be dancing with him," he said, taking her waist and beginning to move to the classical string music as they had in the study earlier that day.

"But you said I didn't need your permission to dance with the boys here and he asked really politely."

"Yes, well, I meant within certain limitations."

"But that isn't what you _said_," Zoe pointed out again.

"Hmm…" he hummed in the annoyed way he did when she made a valid point. "I've been meaning to discuss this with you: it is very unbecoming for a daughter to point out every hypocritical thing her father says to her." He gave her a mock stern glare.

Zoe grinned and then continued to dance with her father until the end of the song when they parted so that he could meet an acquaintance of Mr. Malfoy's. Having drunk several flutes of fizzy, non-alcoholic, fruit drinks during the evening, Zoe made for the loo, navigating her way upstairs to use the one next to the first floor library where she knew there would be far less traffic.

* * *

><p>Yes, Severus was aware that he had said that she could dance with any of the boys here, but he hadn't really meant it. Miles Jarvis and the other two, pre-pubescent boys had been harmless for they weren't much older than Zoe, but the last boy had been much too close to manhood for Severus's liking and he was glad that he'd spotted them almost the instant they'd walked onto the dance floor. Of course, he recognized that Zoe, in her naiveté, was merely being polite and granting any request for a dance, not realizing the inappropriateness, but the boy… well, it was safe to say that Severus had been sixteen once before and knew well enough what motivated wizards that age.<p>

He only hoped that his daughter hadn't been too embarrassed by his intrusion. Though, after her rebuke of his actions, she'd seemed in good spirits and, as she'd walked away having spent several minutes dancing with him, she had a smile on her face. Clearly, she didn't fancy being introduced to and then listening to him speak to whomever Draco decided to introduce him to this time and he didn't blame her. He even envied her ability to literally skip away from it all without a feeling of obligation to the party's host.

Less than fifteen minutes into his conversation with the Minister of…something from…somewhere… the last person he'd expected to see in Malfoy Manor approached him and had the indecency to smile courteously.

"I beg your pardon, Minister Jindal," Harry Potter said to the other guest before turning his green eyes upon Severus. "Professor, may I have a word?"

Severus glared at Potter for the interruption, but he gave a curt nod to the Minister and moved toward the windows with his former student nonetheless.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked rather scathingly once they had settled away from the majority of the crowd.

"You looked like you needed saving from a rather dull conversation."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but his reply was decidedly condescending. "Yes, I owe you an _immense_ debt. However, had I truly wished to end the conversation, it would have ended. So, perhaps you can forgo whatever pleasantries or asides you had in mind and get to your point so that the both of us may walk away with the least amount of irritation possible."

Potter's jaw visibly tightened as he looked away for a moment, but he barely showed any other indication of annoyance or frustration. In fact, he turned back and looked Severus directly and intensely in the eyes.

"Did you see _The Prophet _today?" he asked.

Severus gave a heavy sigh somehow feeling that he should have known this inquiry to be inevitable and feeling oddly obligated to entertain it. "Yes," he said tersely, choosing not to elaborate.

"You ignored my owl this morning. I was curious what your thoughts were on it."

"It was a front page story detailing the presumed threat of an uprising among the former followers of the Dark Lord. Hardly anything different than the rumors that have been published over the last several months."

"These are different and I think you recognize that. There's definitive evidence of organization here. These aren't just extremist pureblood sympathizers suffering from a case of sour grapes and bloviating their ideals to the masses."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest then, standing a bit taller. "You are the Head Auror and a chief advisor to the Minister for Magic; I am a mere Hogwarts professor. I believe this falls under your area of expertise. I hardly think that my thoughts on any matter—including this one—are either relevant or desired by the Ministry."

"No offense, Professor, but you're incredibly wrong," Potter stated plainly. "The Minister for Magic is asking for your cooperation and advice."

Severus arched an eyebrow at the impertinence of his former student, though he was surprised by his confidence. Gone was the brazen teenager; in his place stood an assertive, able wizard with something to say.

"I understand that this is an issue that you've been far removed from for years," he said, "but you have a wealth of knowledge into the thinking and motives of Death Eaters from your years of experience embedded amongst them. It's insight that any Auror in my department could only dream of—"

"They would _dream_ of it?" Severus asked icily and low, suddenly highly agitated. He took a menacing step toward the younger wizard. "The vast majority of your Aurors would likely soil themselves if they experienced a mere _glimpse_ of the _nightmares_ I have witnessed."

Potter took a step back, but did not seem frightened or even intimidated by Severus's outburst. In fact, a subtle coolness exuded from him in the face of the conflict.

"I'm sorry. I misspoke," he said quietly. He only remained that way for a short time, however, waiting for Severus's explosive ire to fizzle out, before forging ahead. "These rumors in _The Prophet_… they aren't rumors anymore, Professor; this is happening again. They may not have the power of Voldemort to rally behind, but they are gaining followers every day. Several of these witches and wizards have ducked their probation and dropped off the grid, aside from the evidence that they've participated in violence against Muggles and a considerable amount of destruction to property. And there have been losses of life on our side already."

Severus had looked away, annoyed by Potter's apology and the stream of information he was receiving unasked, but his gaze abruptly shifted back to the younger wizard with the last bit of information.

"Who?"

"Two Magical Law Enforcement officers and one of my Aurors, just last week," Potter said solemnly. "Her name was Ruthie Cole. She'd only been in the field for a year."

"Cole. Yes… I remember her. As I recall, she ran afoul of the Carrows as a first year for speaking up in your defense. I had to…intervene as Headmaster," Severus said, saddened to hear of the spirited Ravenclaw's demise years after that incident. It was rather startling to realize how much it bothered him, in fact.

"But, nothing like this has been reported," he spoke after several moments of silence. He wasn't able to help his sudden interest now.

"I know. The Ministry is trying to keep anything with the potential to incite a panic out of the headlines."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest once more, imposingly. "Sounds to me as if they're repeating history by keeping the public in the dark. Come now, Potter, I thought we'd evolved past such censorship."

"It wasn't my decision," Potter said, clearly perturbed at the implication that he had something to do with it.

Severus merely arched an eyebrow and stared at the man in front of him.

"I'm listening," he said with a sigh after several moments. He didn't want to get involved, but he _did_ wish to keep apprised of the situation and Potter, at least, was the most likely in the entire wizarding world to have the most accurate information in these matters. After all, Severus knew he was most likely at the top of the short list of enemies of any former Death Eaters and he had a child to think about and protect.

* * *

><p>Zoe stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later. It was cooler and quieter up here on the first floor. The buzz of activity from the guests in the ballroom was barely audible from where she stood.<p>

Pausing for a moment to relish the quietude before heading back downstairs, she suddenly heard the faintest of musical tinkling sounds. Freezing where she stood, she held her breath and listened.

There it was again. It sounded very much like someone was tapping at a piano.

Doubling back down the passageway, knowing an ancient, but well-maintained Broadwood Grand resided within, Zoe headed toward the library. She would be entering from above—the balcony that ran the circumference of the room had a door leading out to the first floor corridor. This way, it would be easier to see who was on the ground floor of the library without alerting them to her presence.

Quietly, she cracked the door open to peek inside. When she saw nothing but shelves and books, but continued to hear the tinkling of ivory keys, she opened the door just a bit wider and slipped into the room to hide behind a pedestal holding a bust of a rather severe-looking man, knowing it would conceal her while she eavesdropped.

Slowly peeking around the pedestal, she approached the balcony rail and looked out over the edge.

The library was large—nearly the size of the ballroom—but she was rather high up and it was easy to pick out the grand piano across the room. Immediately, Zoe recognized a familiar head of messy black hair. She frowned and, feeling a sudden surge of anger, she stepped out from behind the bust and started across the balcony toward the spiral staircase down to the main library level.

As he tapped at the piano keys, James Potter didn't hear or notice Zoe's approach until she was nearly upon him, her wand drawn.

When he saw her, he stopped prodding at the musical instrument, his eyes wide, and fell back in surprise off the side of the piano bench.

"Not very graceful, are you, Potter?" Zoe sneered, a malicious smirk on her face.

James scowled and started to stand, smoothing out his dress robes.

"Merlin. Do you have to _sound_ like him?" he asked in annoyance.

"Like who?"

"Like Professor Snape. And put your wand away before an adult comes in and sees. Do you want to get us both into trouble?"

Zoe didn't even attempt to lower it.

"What does it matter? I'm already on restriction for the rest of the holidays because you just _had_ to go into the cellar," she said defiantly, thrusting her wand into James's chest. He flinched and put his hands up in appeasement.

"He found out?" There seemed to be a bit of remorse in his voice. "I'm sorry."

"Why should I believe you?" Zoe asked then, prodding James with her wand again. "I told you I would get in trouble for going into the cellar and you ignored that!"

James took a step back, his hands still in the air. "Hey, I didn't exactly get away with it either."

That made Zoe's anger dissipate slightly.

"You didn't?"

James shook his head. "Dad caught me sneaking back to my room in sooty clothes, started asking questions."

"What did you tell him?" Zoe asked, allowing her wand to lower to her side.

"The truth," James said, taking his seat at the piano bench once more. "He would've taken my broom away otherwise…"

Zoe's arm was raised again, pointing her wand at him.

"Whoa! Relax! He said he wouldn't tell your dad I was there."

"How do you know for sure?"

For the first time since she'd met him, James looked thoroughly offended.

"Because my dad _never_ lies to me. Besides, if he could keep it a secret from my mum, who he sees every day, he can definitely keep it from your dad."

Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"Why wouldn't he tell your mum?"

James just rolled his eyes at that.

"Probably because he wants me to live. Mum would have killed me if she knew that I'd taken the Floo all the way to some magical pub in Lancashire and then flown to your house in a wind storm in the middle of December."

Zoe smirked then and completely lowered her wand, putting it away.

"It _was_ pretty stupid," she said matter-of-factly. "I mean, my town is full of Muggles. What if they'd seen you?"

James scoffed. "Now you sound like _my_ dad and he already spent a really long time telling me off for it, so you don't have to also."

Zoe shrugged and pulled an ottoman from the nearby sitting area over so that she could continue to talk with James.

"So, I already told you that I'm on restriction. What about you?"

"Grounded as well," James said. "That's why I'm in here. I had to come so as not to tip off Mum that I'd gotten in trouble with Dad, but Dad says I'm not allowed to go to the actual Ball. So he arranged with Mr. Malfoy so I could stay in here. He says I should do a bit of reading." James indicated the library.

"What are _you_ doing here anyway?" he asked then.

Zoe glared at the boy.

"I've _always_ come to the Christmas Balls here. Scorpius Malfoy is my father's godson and Papa used to be Mr. Malfoy's teacher."

"I know that. Your dad was my dad's teacher, too. I didn't know the other part. Scorpius is really his godson?" James asked, almost skeptically.

Zoe nodded.

"I guess it makes sense. Snape was always thick with the Malfoys."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, curious about James's knowledge of that, but didn't focus on it. After all, she imagined it was merely common knowledge. "Why are _you_ here?" she asked. "I've never seen you here before."

James shrugged.

"When I started at Hogwarts last year, Mum decided she wanted to get back into Quidditch again so she got a job working for _The Daily Prophet_ as a reporter for the matches and Al and Lils had to start going to day school. Turns out that Scorpius goes to the same school in London, so our whole family was invited." James locked eyes with Zoe. "They're best mates, Al and Scorpius," he clarified.

Zoe arched an eyebrow.

"Scorpius is a prat. Is your brother one, too?"

"Albus? No."

"Then how can he stand Scorpius?"

"I don't know," James said defensively. "I didn't say he was my friend, did I?"

Zoe looked away just as the door to the library opened. Worried it may be her father looking for her, she leaped up off the ottoman.

"Jamie, Dad wanted me to—"

Albus Potter stopped in the open doorway and stared, looking from Zoe to his brother and back. It only took him a second to get over his initial shock, however, before he glanced out into the corridor briefly. He stepped fully into the room and closed the door, leaning his back against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm going to tell Dad you're in here talking to a girl. You're supposed to be reading," he said.

"I didn't ask her to come here," James retorted hotly. He stood and snatched a pillow off a nearby chair. "Don't be a great, bloody sneak, Albus."

He chucked the pillow at his brother who dodged it with just enough finesse to convey to Zoe that he was used to dodging objects his brother threw at him.

"Fine," Albus said. "I won't tell. I was only taking the mickey anyway." He walked into the room and crossed to Zoe. "Hi. I'm Albus Potter."

"Zoe Agnew," Zoe said. "We met before. At King's Cross."

As Albus's face alit with sudden recognition, James scoffed loudly and Zoe turned to look at him. He had a haughty look on his face now.

"Yeah, Al. Guess who this _really_ is?"

"Who?" Albus asked, looking at his brother inquisitively. After all, Zoe had just introduced herself.

"_James_," Zoe hissed as a warning.

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist," James said. "He won't tell anyone your secret. It isn't as much of a secret as you think it is anyway."

Zoe furrowed her brow. "What do you—?" she began, but was cut off by James, who addressed his younger brother.

"She's a _Snape_. Her dad's _the_ Severus Snape."

Zoe watched as Albus's green eyes went wide. He turned to stare at Zoe in shock.

"Your dad's Snape?"

Zoe frowned, not only annoyed with James for being a prat and telling, but with Albus for staring at her so dumbly.

"How come we never knew Snape had a daughter?" Albus asked then, addressing his brother. "They were together at King's Cross and we didn't know."

"Dad knew."

"He never tells us anything!"

"I know, but I heard him and Mum talking—"

"The Whisper-Wailers? They work?"

"They're wicked!"

"I wish Uncle George would—"

"Boys!" Zoe suddenly yelled over them.

James and Albus both grew silent and turned their gazes to Zoe.

"Sorry," Albus said sheepishly at the same time that his brother rudely asked, "What?"

"It's just that… I don't even know what you two are talking about," she said, a bit annoyed.

James smirked then as Albus gave a sideways, knowing glance at his brother who reached into a pocket of his dress robes and pulled out…an earplug.

Zoe wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Just the greatest invention coming out of our uncle's shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes—and that's saying something because _all_ of the products there are bloody brilliant," James stated.

"But what _is_ it?"

"It's a Whisper-Wailer," said Albus. "Our Uncle George has been working on them for so long, but hasn't been able to get them right…until now, apparently." He turned to his brother and reached for the plug, but James pulled it out of his reach. "Hey! I want to try it out! You've been using it for weeks!"

"Manners, Al. Witches first," James said.

He held the plug out to Zoe who tentatively took it, worried, for some reason, that it might explode.

"What do I do with it?"

James rolled his eyes. "Put it in your ear, of course."

Zoe still eyed the boy skeptically, but went ahead and put the Whisper-Wailer into her ear. Almost instantly, she started to hear the murmur of the people in the ballroom loud and clear in her head.

Eventually, the more she concentrated, distinct voices began to stand out to her as she focused on them individually. Most were speaking mundane, idle conversation—politics, Quidditch, the weather—while some had a bit more colorful things to say. She bypassed quickly a gruff-sounding wizard remarking rather loudly on the caliber of witches at the ball this year and zeroed in on a couple who were clearly arguing about money and the prospects of their daughter in "civilized society".

Zoe rolled her eyes and quickly moved on to a somewhat familiar voice she heard.

"Welcome to the Manor," Mr. Malfoy said, greeting the late-coming guests. "Yes, Madam Pemberly, the wine is complimentary. Help yourself."

That was amazing! Mr. Malfoy had to be miles away if he was standing at the main entry. Zoe _was_ rather impressed by this little device and she said so to James as she pulled it out of her ear and handed it to Albus to take his turn. The boy immediately shoved the earplug into his ear and started to listen.

"Did you hear anything interesting?" James asked.

Zoe shrugged. "No, just normal conversation stuff, really. But I could hear Mr. Malfoy all the way at the front door. They _are_ rather wicked."

"I told you they were. I've had these since the day before term started."

"Did your uncle give them to you to test out or something?" Zoe asked curiously.

James fidgeted slightly in response to her question. "Er, not exactly. I nicked them from his stash of prototypes."

Zoe's eyes widened. "Won't you get in trouble for that?"

James nodded. "I already did. Uncle George sent me an owl as soon as he found out they were missing. He was furious at first, threatened to tell my mum and Gran—which would have been really bad—but I talked him out of it."

"How?" Zoe asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I told him I'd test them out, see how long the charms last… and that I'd _volunteer_ my summer holidays sweeping and dusting the Diagon Alley shop _without_ magic."

"I suppose that isn't so bad," Zoe said then, not knowing what else to say.

"No, not really… And the Whisper-Wailers have been completely worth it—even if I can't use magic for the cleaning…"

They were silent for a time after that. Albus was so absorbed in listening in on the conversations of the Ball attendees that he didn't notice the awkward silence that had grown between his brother and Zoe.

After several moments of categorically avoiding looking at one another, Zoe took a deep breath and turned to look directly at James, who was running his hand over the keys of the piano again, avoiding playing, Zoe assumed, so as not to disturb his brother's eavesdropping.

"Why did you _really_ fly all the way to my house, anyway?" she asked him, perhaps a bit harsher than was necessary, but his reasons had been nagging at her for days.

He looked up at her, seemingly a bit thrown off by her question. He shrugged noncommittally then and composed his facial features.

"You said you'd be bored."

Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"You really risked getting in all that trouble just so that I wouldn't be bored?"

James shifted on the piano bench. Zoe could have sworn she'd seen his ears turn slightly pink, but she couldn't be sure. He let out a weird chuckle.

"Well, and I had to find out if the rumors were true."

Now Zoe was really confused. "Rumors? What rumors?"

"That Professor Snape doesn't own anything but black clothing," James said confidently. "You see, Remy was telling me how his mum told him that Snape always wore black when she was at Hogwarts way back before the War and then Alec said that he reckons that Snape doesn't even own any other color. Of course, I said that that's rubbish. There's _no_ _way_ that everything he owns is black. He's got to have at least some white vests or shorts or socks or something…"

Zoe was frowning. So, James had only used the ruse of being nice in order to settle some… bet or disagreement about her father's clothing? He'd only come to poke fun at her father's expense?

She stood suddenly, ignoring James's instantly uncomfortable, nearly remorseful expression as she moved toward the door.

"Wait, Zoe, I didn't mean…" James attempted to placate, also rising to his feet.

Zoe spun around quickly to face him, her hair whirling around her shoulders as she felt her eyes morph in her anger.

"You're a prat, James Potter!" she stated and then ran to the door of the library, leaving without a second thought.

She couldn't understand that boy. How was it that he could be so nice and helpful one minute and then the next, act like a complete… a complete _arse_? And what had her father ever done to James to deserve such derision? Yes, he'd given him detention many times already, but there was no doubt in Zoe's mind that James had misbehaved to earn those punishments. Besides, if the Gryffindor hadn't realized that her father didn't tolerate pranks and anything less than complete respect and decorum in his classes, then he definitely deserved to sit in detention.

Zoe was fuming. The stupid boy had no right to act as he had. No right.

It was true that he was sometimes funny and interesting, but he was apparently also cruel and… and horrible. She would be perfectly content if she never saw him again.

Zoe raced through the corridors of Malfoy Manor, intent on finding her father. She wanted to go home.

She entered into the main ballroom and stopped, doing her best to look around the crowd. Normally, her father's black ensemble was easy to spot, but at such a formal event, many of the wizards here were wearing black dress robes.

She therefore began to make a circuit around the room. The music had ceased temporarily so, instead of dancing, the adults were standing in clumps talking amiably with each other.

Zoe moved quickly from group to group, glancing briefly at everyone before moving on when she didn't see who she was looking for.

After several minutes of searching the large room, Zoe stopped and looked around again, even doing a few jumps to try to see up over the crowd. Realizing she was still much too short, she spotted an empty chair and rushed over to it. Standing on the chair helped immensely to see over everyone and, soon, she had located her father standing just inside one of the sets of doors that led out to the snow-covered terrace.

He was facing her direction and was quite absorbed in the conversation he was having with another wizard who had his back to Zoe.

She hopped down from her looking spot and made her way to her father's side.

He was in the middle of a conversation, but her roiling emotions couldn't be contained any longer.

"Papa, may we go home now?" she blurted out, effectively cutting off her father's sentence.

He glared at her with a familiar sternness, but put on an accommodating expression for the man standing before him. Knowing her father had every intention of waiting until they were in private before he scolded her for the interruption, Zoe looked up at the other guest in order to apologize for her rudeness; it was a gesture that she knew would gain her points in the end.

"I beg—" she cut off, recognizing James's father, Mr. Potter, instantly and feeling a flush creep up her cheeks. She knew that Mr. Potter knew who she was based on what James had told her, but she also knew that she had most definitely let the cat out of the bag in her father's eyes. She quickly composed herself, figuring she could deal with those repercussions later. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Potter," she said again before looking up to her father again. "Papa, I would like to go home now."

"I am having a conversation," he said tersely, his eyes very austere.

"I know, but—"

"No," he cut her off. "Merlin, where are your manners? You will wait patiently for me to finish."

Zoe opened her mouth to continue arguing, but she was cut off by Harry Potter this time.

"Professor, you haven't introduced us," the wizard said.

Zoe's eyes widened. She knew her father wouldn't take kindly to being called out for not having proper manners himself. He arched a single eyebrow at the younger man.

"As I recall, Potter, you were introduced to my daughter at King's Cross Station on the first of September. Don't tell me some accident in the line of your Auror duties has addled your memory… That would be quite unfortunate," her father drawled.

Mr. Potter merely smiled, seeming to take Zoe's father's derision as a joke.

"Where she was introduced as just another first year, as _I_ recall," he countered.

That sounded like a challenge of some sort, but Zoe didn't quite know what Mr. Potter meant by it.

The wizard stuck out his hand to Zoe, who took it politely.

"It's nice to see you again, Zoe. You haven't seen my son, Albus, have you? I just sent him to check on James…" Mr. Potter looked at Zoe's father then. "You see, James got himself into a bit of trouble a few days ago so I've banned him from the festivities this evening."

"Do you expect me to be surprised by your son's utter lack of obedience? I assure you, I am not. He doesn't behave for his teachers; I think it's rather reasonable to assume that he doesn't behave for his parents," her father stated plainly.

"It wasn't exactly that…," Mr. Potter began, but Zoe's eyes had widened once more. Hadn't James said his father wouldn't tell? It sounded like he was about to…

"Papa," Zoe had her arms wrapped around one of her father's arms now and she was pleading with him. "_Please_ may we go?"

"Zoe," her father said in his warning voice. "You have interrupted my conversation. Go sit over there and wait if you no longer wish to participate in the ball. We will leave shortly."

"But—"

"It's okay, Professor," Mr. Potter cut in again. Perhaps he too recognized the dangerous gleam his former professor's eyes had taken at Zoe's insistence. "I should probably locate Ginny and my children. We have another engagement to make it to tonight. We can talk another time. Soon, perhaps."

And then the wizard turned away, leaving the Snapes standing there together. Zoe heard her father huff in annoyance.

"That was very rude," he snapped, looking down on her.

Zoe fidgeted, still gripping her father's arm. She looked down at her shoes.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just… I don't want to be here anymore."

"Why is that? What has happened?"

"Nothing."

Her father tapped the underside of her chin with his index finger in order to get her to lift her head and look at him. "Nonsense. Your irises are fading from orange."

Zoe shook her head and pulled away from her father, silently pleading with him to drop it. He sighed heavily.

"Very well. I was getting rather bored of the mindless drivel anyway. I'll go fetch our cloaks; you go find Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and thank them for their hospitality."

Zoe looked to her father indignantly. "Why can't I get the cloaks?" she whined, for there were times when she could be just as antisocial as her father often was and right now was one of those times.

"Because I told you to go find Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and tell them thank you," her father stated with finality, turning Zoe to face the center of the room where she was pleased to see that at least she wouldn't have to do much searching for their hosts, who were standing nearby.

Once home, Zoe's father shrugged out of the outer layer of his robes, opened his waistcoat, and untied the bowtie around his neck while Zoe collapsed onto the sofa in the sitting room to decompress from the socially-taxing night.

With a wave of his wand, her father brought up the flame in the fire and took a seat in his armchair. He then leveled Zoe with a gaze that made her squirm uncomfortably, but he didn't say anything for the longest time.

"Aside from the last fifteen minutes or so, did you enjoy the ball on the whole?"

Zoe shrugged. She hadn't expected that question. "It was okay. I like my dress and I liked the dancing, even if I was just watching. The food was good…"

"But?"

"But everyone's always so…stuffy and formal at the Christmas Ball… Do you think I'll have mums wanting me to get betrothed to their sons every year?"

Her father gave a small snort of amusement.

"Most likely," he stated.

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I still think we should spend Christmas Eve with Minerva," she said, smoothing her dress once more and kicking off her new dress shoes.

"The age-old argument…" her father said with a sigh. "One I imagine we'll have every year until you're of age. Did you remember to thank Mrs. Malfoy for your shoes?"

Zoe shook her head. "No, I forgot."

Her father inclined his head. "You will write to her on Boxing Day, then."

Zoe nodded and they were silent again. Zoe stared blankly across the room as her father tilted his head back against the back of his chair and stretched his legs out straight. He closed his eyes. He seemed really tired and a bit faraway, and Zoe wondered about that, but something else was nagging at her and she knew she wouldn't be able to rest until she cleared it up, or at least tried to.

"Papa, why do you always wear black?"

Her father opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. He wrinkled his eyebrows.

"I don't always."

"Well, _I_ know that, but people at school think you do. They…" Zoe trailed off. She didn't know if she should tell him. It may hurt his feelings. However, she didn't need to finish for her father picked up on her thoughts.

"They comment on it, do they?"

Zoe nodded solemnly.

"And this upsets you?"

Zoe nodded again. Her father sighed and pulled his tie completely from his collar; he was thinking.

"Children can be cruel," he said simply. "Trivial differences are often seen as reasons to deride others. You shouldn't let their gossip trouble you."

Zoe nodded, though she didn't feel any better. "Do you think they'd still say those things around me if they knew that I was your daughter?"

"I doubt most of them would. Though, some still might."

Zoe went quiet for several minutes after that, simply staring into the fire. She supposed that after what James had said to her that night, her father was right.

"Papa?" she started again after having thought about it quite a lot. "Would you be angry if someone else found out about us on their own?"

Her father wrinkled his brow. "Why should I be angry? Miss Wickham seemed to have the necessary observational skills to work it out; it would just be foolish to assume that others didn't have those same abilities."

"I thought you didn't want anyone to know. I thought you'd go mental if any of the other students found out."

"_Mental_," her father scoffed, before leveling his daughter with a serious gaze. "I would _prefer_ that they not know, that you not be openly identifiable as a professor's daughter. However, I never anticipated that it wouldn't get out eventually."

Zoe fidgeted a bit. "I suppose I accidently told Mr. Potter tonight," she said softly.

Her father's eyes narrowed slightly then as if appraising Zoe.

"Zoe, there are many that are fully aware of our relationship—no doubt, Mr. Potter included, considering his high status at the Ministry. We have been about in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade; all those children at Malfoy Manor every Christmas… I didn't imagine it would remain a locked-away secret; I merely preferred that it was not common knowledge at Hogwarts or the greater wizarding world until such a time I felt that you were ready to handle any backlash from such a revelation."

"Why would there be a backlash?" Zoe asked curiously.

Her father flinched almost imperceptibly at her question. He cleared his throat and looked away from her.

"I think after your first term, you understand why."

"Just because you're strict and like to take away house points?"

He looked back at her and rolled his eyes.

"I don't _like_ taking away points. Students give me little choice when they choose to be lazy and dunderheaded."

Zoe gave her father a skeptical look and grinned.

"I think you like it a little," she teased.

He rolled his eyes again. "Oh, go to bed, child, before I…call off Christmas," he said with mock-annoyance, looking down his nose sternly at her.

Zoe actually let out a bark of laughter as she stood to obey her father.

"You can't call it off," she countered good-naturedly.

"I can most emphatically try, I assure you. Just test me."

Zoe giggled some more as she made her way to the stairs.

"Good night. And Happy Christmas, Papa."

A few minutes later, Zoe slipped under her covers, ready for sleep.


	21. Wonders and Worries of Christmas

**_Hello everyone! Chapter 21 is here! I'm trying to post these next few chapters as quickly as possible because some pretty meaty stuff is coming up and there's a lot of writing to do. This chapter isn't overly plot-driving or exciting, but I think you'll like it. Let me know what you think and enjoy!_  
><strong>

**_MetamorphmagusLupin_**

* * *

><p><strong>Wonders and Worries of Christmas<strong>

Zoe awoke and dressed quickly on Christmas morning. Quietly, she made her way down the stairs and onto the first floor corridor. She tiptoed, for she knew that it wasn't much past seven and that her father would still be sleeping. He always had a lie in on Christmas day.

Creeping quickly past his bedroom door, Zoe made her way down into the sitting room and gasped upon fully glimpsing it.

Whereas the previous night she had left it looking as it always did with copious books, sparse décor, and homey, comfortable furniture, now it was beautifully bedecked with faint twinkling lights. Holly, popcorn, and cranberry garland seemed to be everywhere and against the expanse of wall near the fireplace, there was a large, beautiful Christmas tree adorned with candles with magical, white flames and beautiful, velvet bows. At the top was a large, silvery star.

Zoe's father never made a fuss about Christmas decorations, especially not this year since most of December, they had been at Hogwarts—which had enough cheery embellishments to choke the streets of a small country, he'd said. Zoe never made much of a fuss either, at least not since one Christmas Eve when she was seven years old and had asked her father why they didn't have a Christmas tree in their sitting room as Minerva did. At the time, her father had seemed a bit taken aback by her question, almost as if he'd never considered such a notion before. His answer had been, simply, that they just didn't.

He must have sensed her disappointment then, however, for she had come downstairs the next morning to a beautiful display of Christmas wonderment similar to what she was currently viewing.

Ever since, it had become something of a tradition for him to stay up on Christmas Eve after Zoe had gone to bed to deck the sitting room in holiday splendor—with Ollie's help, of course. Zoe always considered it one of her gifts from him every year. Zoe's gift to him was the hour or two of sleep she afforded him now, whereas before she had bounded into his bedroom excitedly jumping onto his bed the instant she awoke on Christmas morning—which had notoriously been _very_ early.

Instead, when Zoe awoke, she would look through every present under the tree, trying to guess what they were through the wrappings while separating out those for her and those for her father as she waited for him to wake up and come downstairs. Of course, her pile of gifts—though never more than modest in size—nearly always dwarfed that of her father. He said it was because Minerva insisted on spoiling Zoe while, of course, Minerva said the opposite was true. She grinned inwardly at the memory of those conversations.

Zoe walked around the small room, taking in every detail of her father's work. She reached out to run her fingers along the strings of garland and simply stared, mesmerized, at the tree which filled nearly the entire corner of the sitting room and reached all the way up to the ceiling.

It was wonderful. Her father had outdone himself this year.

Zoe felt a slight chill and hugged herself, suddenly wishing she knew the spell her father used to bring the flames up in the fireplace. Since she didn't, she crossed to a hidden cupboard next to one of the bookshelves, pulled out the solitary, fleece blanket that was kept there, and threw it around her shoulders.

She walked to the window then and looked out. A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, so much as to make it difficult to distinguish the exact place where the pavement rose above the level of the road. The light flurries that were still coming down made the whole scene charming, even in such an otherwise rather drab neighborhood.

Zoe stared for a long time out the window, leaning up against the sill, just enjoying the look of the wintry settings and basking in the warmth of the blanket around her shoulders.

_Pop!_

Zoe turned quickly to see Ollie looking back up at her.

"Merry Christmas, Ollie," she said immediately, her face breaking into an excited smile.

"Ollie is wishing Miss Zoe a Happy Christmas as well!" Ollie said, bowing low.

Zoe crossed to the floor in front of the Christmas tree then and sat down to begin separating the presents.

"Ollie will cook Miss Zoe a warm breakfast," Ollie said as she started to walk toward the kitchen.

"Nothing for me, thanks. I want to fill up on Christmas dinner."

"Ignore that, Ollie," Zoe heard her father say a bit sleepily, but still commanding.

She turned to see him coming down the last step into the sitting room and cross to the sofa, wearing only black trousers and a plain, white t-shirt. He waved his wand toward the fireplace to bring up the flame.

"Zoe will eat a light breakfast whether she wants to or not," he said, eyeing Zoe with mild authority.

Zoe didn't argue. There was no point, really. Also, an argument over something so insignificant would only ruin Christmas Day.

She smiled weakly at her father as he sat down on the sofa.

"Merry Christmas, Papa," she said. He merely nodded his head as his way of returning the sentiment. "The decorations are brilliant. Thank you. I think the tree's bigger this year than it's ever been."

"It most certainly has more useless baubles than any other year," her father said as he gazed at it, looking it up and down. He looked back to Zoe. "Courtesy of Ollie, of course."

Zoe nodded and smiled wider. She loved everything about the decorations, including anything her father thought was in excess.

She sat touching the bows on packages for several minutes before she heard a heavy sigh from her father.

"Well? Are you going to begin opening your gifts or do you prefer them in the wrappings?"

Zoe looked up at him with a surprised expression.

"But you always make me wait until after breakfast," she stated.

"Yes, well, you're looking particularly wistful to open them this year."

Zoe grinned from ear to ear then reached first for a present in front of her, and handed it up to her father on the sofa who merely set it in his lap to wait for Zoe to select her own first gift.

Once she had chosen it, she looked to her father again. When he had given his nod of permission, she dug greedily into the paper of the small package she had selected. When she'd ripped it all away, she looked up at her father quizzically, holding a black, velvet jewelry case in her hand. She opened the lid, which creaked on its hinges, and regarded her gift in awe.

Nestled within a cushion of cream-colored satin was a pair of earrings. They were green, princess-cut, emerald studs with silver posts; they matched her hummingbird necklace exactly.

Zoe snatched the wrappings from the box off the floor to view the label she'd initially overlooked.

_To: Zoe_

_From: Papa_

Zoe looked up at her father in amazement and then down to her earrings again, then back to her father. She didn't know what to say. The emerald studs were so beautiful.

"They were your mother's as well," her father said then, apparently realizing that his daughter was at a loss for words.

"They match my necklace," Zoe managed to say as she pulled the chain and hummingbird charm from beneath her shirt. She looked up to her father again. "Thank you, Papa. I love them."

Her father inclined his head and Zoe giggled, suddenly seeing the unopened package still sitting in her father's lap.

"Papa, you have to open your present."

Her father looked down at his gift, seeming to have forgotten that it was there in his anticipation to see Zoe's reaction to her present. He began carefully peeling back the wrappings as Zoe tore into more of her presents. She sat all the other gifts for her father at his feet.

Obviously, with such enthusiasm on Zoe's part, she made short work of unwrapping everything. She had already sneakily ripped into a few chocolate frogs from John and was looking through one of her newest books when her father had finally finished opening his gifts. In the end, Zoe felt it had been a pretty good haul for the year.

She'd received a new pair of pink gloves and a scarf from Caroline while Lottie had sent a beautiful, seashell mobile that Zoe intended to hang near the window in her bedroom. In addition to the earrings, her father had given her some books—_An Enjoyable Compendium of Magical Theory for the Young Witch or Wizard, Depths of the Mind: Steps to Mastering Occlumency_ and, surprisingly, _Broomsticks of the 21__st__ Century_—as well as a few articles of clothing he felt she was lacking or that she had complained about having outgrown in her wardrobe—namely jumpers and a few skirts for school wear. And, of course, he'd gotten her the stationery set she had asked for.

An hour later, having eaten breakfast and presented Ollie with a gift of butterbeer and a new hat, Zoe sat tightly nestled against her father on the sofa, scanning through one of the books he'd received from Minerva—_Aboriginal Potions and Elixirs of the World_. They talked softly about the various ingredients required, which potions he should attempt first, which ones Zoe thought she could brew either on her own (none, in her father's opinion) and which she'd want to tackle with a bit of supervision.

After they'd flipped through the book for quite some time, her father closed it and glanced over at her.

"Well, do you believe you've been sufficiently spoiled enough to last you until next Christmas?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Zoe grinned. "I suppose so."

Her father leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his thighs, and causing Zoe to push away from him and sit on the very edge of the sofa. He looked down at the sitting room floor before him where Ollie had stacked both Zoe's and his various presents into neat piles while they'd eaten. He looked to Zoe.

"I do believe you've missed one," he said.

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "What do you mean?" she asked, looking around at the sweets, books, clothes, and other items at her feet. She looked up to her father who wore an uncharacteristically playful smirk on his face.

"You've missed a present. I could have sworn that I told Ollie to put it under the tree with the rest, but she obviously thought it better suited to its hiding place…"

Her father, still smirking, took out his wand and flicked it toward the very cupboard Zoe had taken her blanket from earlier. The thin door opened and many of the items within floated out and came to rest on the floor nearby.

Her father lowered his wand and looked at his daughter's perplexed face. From her vantage point, Zoe couldn't exactly see into the cupboard and her father's behavior was a bit odd to her, so she was wary.

"Well? Go on, then," her father said with only a tiny bit of annoyance in his voice. A hand on her back encouraged her to stand and make her way to the cupboard.

It took only a step or two for Zoe to see inside and when she did, she immediately looked back to her father with wide eyes, shocked, to say the least.

"It's for me?"

"Unless you believe Scorpius would prefer it?"

Zoe shook her head adamantly and turned back quickly, somehow worried that if she took her eyes off it too long, it may turn out to be only an apparition.

There, leaning against a corner of the tall, narrow storage cupboard was a sleek, brand-new racing broomstick with a big, red bow tied rather haphazardly around the handle. Zoe moved closer to it, touching it and feeling the instant pulse of the magic within. She gazed down at the perfectly groomed bristles, the polished feet rests, the narrow, though comfortable-looking seat.

She pulled it from the cupboard and turned to look at her father.

"A Jetstream 1200?"

"It isn't the top of the line, by any means—certainly not the Firebolt that Minerva suggested—but I believe it to be more than adequately hazardous for an eleven-year-old girl."

"It's brilliant!" Zoe exclaimed, no longer able to contain her enthusiasm.

She crossed quickly to her father and flung her arms around him, inadvertently pushing him back against the cushions of the sofa with her force that she was practically laying on top of his chest, hugging him enthusiastically, her new broomstick clutched at their sides.

"I love it, Papa!"

"I wouldn't have guessed," her father said sarcastically, as he shifted in order to put his arms around Zoe while moving back into a sitting position.

Zoe giggled. "I can't believe you got me a broom! Thank you!"

"I found it an appropriate gift for a natural flyer."

Zoe nodded. "May I go ride it now?"

Her father leveled her with a stern look. "No. You know that riding it here will be next to impossible. Minerva has plenty of space in Portree within her wards, so you may fly there until you are a second year. Then, of course, you may take it to Hogwarts."

"But I won't even be at Minerva's until the summer! _Please_, Papa. Can't you do that Disillusionment thing again? Nobody will see me."

Her father's demeanor changed quickly as his distaste for whining and pleading kicked in.

"Nobody will see you, including myself, and you are not flying unsupervised until you have completed _all_ your flying courses. So, no. I will not do that Disillusionment _thing_. Full stop."

Zoe frowned and pushed away from her father then, but she didn't argue further, knowing it was futile and likely to just land her in trouble. That didn't mean she wasn't feeling resentful. What was the point of even getting her a broom if she couldn't ride it now? He should have just waited until next year…

She heard her father sigh heavily beside her and she looked over at him with irritated eyes.

"I must admit that I did not put a lot of thought into the logistics of when and how you were going to be able to fly your new broom. Therefore, I think it only fair that a compromise be made for today."

Her father paused to make sure that he had her full attention.

"You will not fly it in Spinner's End. That rule is absolute. However, owing to the fact that Hogwarts will be all but deserted, when you and I visit with Minerva this afternoon, we will take it out for its first flight on the Quidditch pitch. Aside from that, you will be allowed to take it to Hogwarts with you for the remainder of this year, but it will reside in my quarters, only to be used under my sole supervision. Is that clear?"

Zoe thought about his stipulations for a bit. It seemed fair enough considering no other first year would have their brooms in the castle for recreational use, even if it had to be under the watchful, somewhat-overprotective eye of her father… And she'd get to take it out that very day…

"Okay," she conceded, giving her father a smile. She perked up considerably after that, talking animatedly about flying for several minutes until her father stopped her and told her to go get dressed for Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>Having already sent Zoe through moments before, Severus stepped out of the Floo in the Headmistress's private suite to find his daughter already showing off her new broom to her godmother. His entrance going utterly unnoticed, he pulled the wrapped gifts for Minerva from his pocket and enlarged them before placing them under the tree.<p>

"…and Papa said I could fly it here later today since I won't be at your house until this summer," he heard Zoe say to her godmother.

Minerva glanced up to Severus then as he moved to pour himself a pre-dinner glass of wine. She inclined her head slightly as a greeting before focusing back on the girl before her.

"I see… It's a shame you won't be spending the New Year with me in Portree. You would have had plenty of opportunity to fly above the gardens of Budhmor Firth," Minerva chided her goddaughter.

Severus didn't even need to turn around to know that his daughter had started to fidget.

"I know," Zoe mumbled lowly. "I'm on restriction until term starts."

Severus turned to see that Zoe had taken a seat on the sofa next to her godmother. Slouching, she gave him a resentful, accusatory look as he approached one of the chairs. He paused in his stride and raised a stern eyebrow.

"Do not give me that look," he reprimanded evenly. "You knew far better than to enter the cellar that day."

"I know… But, why the _whole_ _holidays_?" the girl had the audacity to complain. Why she was being so argumentative today, he didn't know.

"Oh, please," Severus said, annoyed. "You can hardly say that you've suffered in your house arrest. The weather's been so horrendous that venturing outdoors has been near impossible, I've assigned you no extra tasks as of yet, and you were still allowed to participate at the Christmas ball. Perhaps I should have taken a leaf from Mr. Potter's book and confined you to the library last night."

"No…" Zoe grumbled.

"_And_ I've already given you permission to fly today—a freedom that could easily be revoked should you fail to improve your present attitude," he warned.

She looked away from him, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment of being scolded, but she seemed to change her behavior rather quickly. As she sat into a more agreeable posture, Severus sat down and took a sip of his wine.

"Potter?" Minerva asked then, having waited until her guests had finished their disagreement. "The Potters were at the Malfoys' Christmas Ball?"

"Hmm," Severus hummed. "I had the misfortune of having a conversation with the patriarch."

"Misfortune?" Zoe piped up then, her brow wrinkled. "You were keen to talk to him. You got angry when I interrupted you and you told me to go sit down and wait so you could finish your conversation."

Severus shot his daughter a severe glare, which didn't even make her flinch or pause.

"It's true," she pushed. "I'm just say—"

Minerva, obviously sensing that Zoe was half a sentence away from losing her aforementioned and only recently-obtained flying privileges, intervened. She put a conciliatory hand on the girl's knee to convey that that was enough disputing.

"What did Harry wish to discuss with you, Severus?" she asked curiously.

Severus merely shrugged and took another sip of his wine.

"He wished to consult with me on a number of matters plaguing the Ministry at the moment."

He hoped the statement was enough to communicate to Minerva what had been the subject of his and Potter's conversation while simultaneously indicating that it was not something he wished to discuss in front of Zoe.

As he knew she would, Minerva understood. She nodded her head pensively and then turned to look at the grandfather clock near the entrance of her quarters.

"If Zoe wishes to fly, now would be an opportune time. Our midday Christmas dinner for what few students and staff we have, has just begun in the Great Hall. There is virtually no chance you'd be disturbed on the pitch."

Severus knew that by 'disturbed', Minerva had really meant 'seen' and he would, indeed, take advantage of the opportunity.

He inclined his head and looked to Zoe, whose eyes had immediately shifted to him as she awaited his permission. Severus fought back the urge to roll his eyes at her unveiled eagerness.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked after several moments of silence. "Get your cloak. It's likely to be arctic out there."

Once outside the castle and across the grounds, Severus had limited the girl to only fifteen minutes in the air. He told himself it was because it was much too cold outside and that the less time they spent on the pitch, the less likely they were to be spotted, but the truth of the matter was that an uneasiness had settled into his gut the second Zoe had lifted into the air. His stomach had positively flip-flopped when she'd done some foolish dive-and-swoop move over thirty feet in the air. Where the girl had learned such a move, he was unsure. She'd probably picked it up watching the Gryffindors practice Quidditch sometime during her first term.

"No stunts!" he'd futilely shouted up to her more than once, only to be either unheard or ignored as Zoe had flown about the pitch at a speed that was much faster than he was entirely comfortable with.

Therefore, he'd kept his wand at the ready lest he need to cast a quick Cushioning Charm or _Eresto_ _Momentum,_ as he tried to relish the excited grin on his daughter's face rather than think about the danger she was in while in the air.

Over an hour later, however, he was glad that he'd allowed his daughter the expulsion of energy for it had seemed to take the impertinence out of her tongue and actions, especially in light of the other guests having arrived.

Minerva's sons, Finlay and Ewan, her daughters-in-law, five grandchildren, and her lone great-granddaughter—Adelaide, a curly redhead two years Zoe's junior—had joined them for a hearty Christmas dinner in the formal dining room of the Head's suite. Only once before had he and Zoe celebrated a holiday with all the McGonagall clan and it made for a rather interesting and pleasant change of pace.

Severus talked amicably with Ewan—a Potions Master himself—for a time, while Zoe seemed to flit between showing her Jetstream off to each of Minerva's grown grandchildren, to talking with Adelaide, to reading a book on the floor near the fireplace.

As the evening grew later, Minerva's family left, leaving only Severus and Zoe once more.

Minerva and Severus had settled before the fire with glasses of red wine to drink and talk, while Zoe had taken the cup of tea her godmother had prepared for her, as well as her book, and headed off to the reading nook by a large window. It had started to snow once more and Severus imagined that the picturesque view of the grounds drew his daughter there just as much as the comfortable cushions.

"I did not have a chance to thank you earlier for the book on Aboriginal potions," he said to Minerva. "I imagine I'll make good use of it."

Minerva nodded. "I saw that in the second hand shop in Hogsmeade. It looked as if it had hardly been used and, though I'm no potions expert, I imagined you could battle through some of the concoctions rather easily."

"Some look to be immensely difficult."

"Well, I know how much you enjoy a challenge," Minerva stated.

Severus inclined his head in the affirmative. He did, indeed, enjoy a challenging potion from time to time.

"Oh! I nearly forgot! A house elf brought something for you while you and Zoe were outdoors. My guess is the owl that carried it preferred to end its journey in the Owlery rather than actually deliver its parcel to the intended recipient."

Minerva leaned around the side of the sofa and pulled out a thin, square package that had been placed on the floor there. It was wrapped in brown paper and twine. He had no idea what it could be.

When Minerva handed it to him, he looked it over once, then pulled out his wand and magicked the wrappings away with a single tap. When he saw what remained in his hands, his jaw nearly dropped in astonishment.

It was merely a plain, black picture frame but the photograph within was of he and Zoe at the Christmas ball the night before. It couldn't have been taken too long after Severus had cut in to dance with her. He was pleased to see that the photographer had opted for color film rather than black-and-white, for the stark redness of Zoe's dress made her absolutely shine next his crisp, black, formal robes and the robes of the blurred guests around them. Her face was positively lit up with happiness and excitement while Severus himself wore a content smirk.

As he watched the moving image of father and daughter stepping and twirling and then resetting to step and twirl again, he tried to imagine when the photograph had been taken. He couldn't recall seeing anyone with a camera walking about at the ball.

"What is it, Severus?"

Severus looked up to Minerva, who was watching him with curiosity. He turned the frame around to show her. She instantly—and predictably—started to gush.

"Isn't that darling," she exclaimed. "Such a precious memory."

Severus merely arched an eyebrow. Though he didn't disagree entirely, he could hardly comment on such a thing without seeming overtly sentimental.

As Minerva leaned forward to take the photograph from him for a closer look, he noticed the small note Spello-taped to the back. He detached it and handed the frame over.

_Severus,_

_This year, Draco and I decided to hire a photographer for the festivities and he managed to capture this last night. I thought it would make a wonderful gift for the two of you to cherish. You and Zoe have a wonderful Christmas._

_Astoria_

"It's a gift from Astoria Malfoy," he stated, looking up to Minerva and setting the note on the coffee table before him.

"That was kind of her," Minerva responded, a proud smile on her face. "You two dance very well together."

"I should hope so," Severus said dryly, taking a sip of his wine and sitting back into his chair. "I spent nearly three hours before the ball teaching her a proper waltz and trying to explain the traditional country dances."

Minerva looked up to him. "I'm sure she enjoyed that."

Severus merely nodded.

"What did Potter wish to discuss with you?" Minerva asked lowly, looking toward Zoe to make sure she wasn't listening in.

Severus turned his head to look at Zoe briefly as well then settled his gaze on the Headmistress.

"He wanted my thoughts on the alleged nefarious organization of released former Death Eaters. He said Shacklebolt is interested to hear from me."

Minerva nodded. "And what were your thoughts?"

"I hardly had the time to give them before Zoe came insisting to leave the ball," Severus remarked.

Minerva wrinkled her brow, her eyes drifting to her goddaughter at the window seat once more. "Why did she insist to leave?"

Severus shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. She seemed to be having a perfectly suitable time, then she went off somewhere, and came back upset. She said something about being disturbed by children commenting on my choice of dress, but nothing more than that was discussed."

"She was most likely more upset that she couldn't defend you than she was about what some child said. This secrecy is rough on her, Severus. Surely you see that?"

"Hmm," Severus hummed. Of course he could see it, but there was hardly much he could do about it at present. At least, that's what he was going to continue to tell himself.

"In regards to the Death—" Minerva began.

"Papa? Do I have a dowry?"

Severus had just taken another sip from his glass when Zoe had practically shouted her question from across the room, cutting her godmother's sentence clean off. He nearly spit out his wine in surprise before giving an annoyed look to Minerva who wasn't even trying to contain the fact that she'd suddenly broken out into mirthful giggles.

"No," Severus told his daughter simply, glaring at Minerva.

"Why not?" Zoe asked, genuinely inquisitive.

Severus looked over to his daughter then and saw a perplexed look on her face. He couldn't help but snort without any amusement.

"Because dowries are nothing more than an archaic attempt by the aristocracy to ensure the marriage of their daughters to wealthy or influential suitors. Since I am decidedly _not_ wealthy, nor aiming to improve our position within any form of aristocracy, there has hardly been galleons set aside for such a thing."

"Oh," she said. She seemed a bit embarrassed, as if she should have realized all that.

"In addition," Severus continued. "I have little to no aspirations of marrying you off—ever."

Zoe merely rolled her eyes at him then, though he saw a slight smirk on her face. She went back to the book she had been reading and Severus turned to Minerva with a scowl upon his face. The Headmistress was grinning madly.

"You did this," Severus accused, pointing a finger at her. "Was it really necessary to give her _all_ of Austen's works this Christmas?"

Minerva waved a hand, unconcerned. "I've been waiting years for her to be old enough to enjoy them. Besides, she's at the age where a strong, opinionated female character like Elizabeth Bennet is at least somewhat identifiable, yet has experiences that are excitingly different to her own life. Girls should know that they needn't be timid little mice in order to be respected in their society; they should know that their opinions, thoughts, and wit are valid and encouraged, despite a status quo that sometimes aims to silence, discredit, or condemn them. I think Elizabeth Bennet—all Austen's novels—will help Zoe to learn this."

"Yes, and I'm sure she'll learn to hold men to the highly realistic standard that is Mr. Darcy, as well," he stated dryly.

Minerva scoffed. "Don't be silly. The men of Jane Austen's world are merely the dream, not something any girl actually expects. No… everything she learns of men—how to identify the good ones from the scoundrels, how to find a man that loves _and_ appreciates her, how a woman is to be respected by a man and what her self-worth is alongside him—will be taught by her father."

Severus was startled much more so than he would have liked to admit. _He_ would be the one that Zoe looked to for guidance in choosing a respectable man? It was not the female role model in her life, but _he_ who would teach his daughter about her self-worth in a relationship? He couldn't help but feel that if that truly were the case, they were all in trouble.

His expression must have conveyed his sudden internal turmoil for Minerva leveled him with a very stern look.

"Don't look so shocked, Severus. She watches you. Without ever meaning to, really, you will leave with her an impression of how a man should treat a woman. It's likely that the man that she marries will, in fact, be very similar to you in principles and values."

Severus really couldn't think of anything to say to all that and he couldn't say that he'd given any of it much, if any, thought before. What a burdensome notion for a father: that he held the key, or at least set the standard, to his daughter's happiness with some unnamed, faceless man, years into the future.

Severus shuddered. He supposed he'd be thinking about it now—thinking about the example he'd be setting, about every single interaction he had with the opposite sex—in an effort to try to assure that his daughter's future relationships were healthy ones. He'd probably worry incessantly about it the older Zoe grew, most likely. Merlin, help them.

Of course, Zoe chose that moment to join them in the seating area. She held _Pride and Prejudice_ clutched to her chest as she leaned into her father's shoulder and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" she asked curiously mid-yawn, looking toward her godmother.

"Nothing pertinent," Severus said a bit distracted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoe nod her head.

"May I try it?"

Severus glanced up to his daughter. She looked into his eyes and then averted them to gaze at his half-drunk glass of wine. He pursed his lips, at first feeling like such a question from an eleven-year-old was rather presumptuous before he remembered that he'd been over a year younger than Zoe when his grandmother had given him his first taste of wine.

He looked to Minerva for her reaction to Zoe's question. He would prefer not to be judged by the Headmistress for allowing the girl to imbibe alcohol at her young age, much less on school property.

When Minerva seemed to show indifference to the request as well as his decision regarding it, he held the glass up for Zoe to take.

"Only a sip," he instructed.

Zoe quickly set her book down onto the arm of his chair so that she could eagerly grasp the crystal wine glass with two hands. She paused, then put the rim to her lips, and tilted the red fluid into her mouth, taking a bit more than what Severus would consider a sip to taste. He reached up to pull the glass away.

"That's enough," he said, taking it from her.

"It tastes… fruity, but then bitter," the girl observed, smacking her lips together rather uncouthly.

"Considering wine at its most basic is merely fermented grapes, I'd say that description is rather apt," Minerva replied.

Zoe merely shrugged at Minerva's statement before opening her mouth and giving another large yawn. He took a large gulp of his wine and then set it on the coffee table. He stood.

"It's time to go home," he said.

"Can't we stay just a little longer?" Zoe asked, leaning fully against him. She yawned again.

Severus put a hand on the top of her head and tilted it back so that she would focus her attention on him. "It's time to go," he said again with a bit more sternness in his voice. "It's been a long and eventful day and you are tired. Say goodnight to your godmother and collect your things."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste, for she knew that she would lose any argument. She pulled away from him to cross to Minerva who had stood at the declaration of their departure. The two embraced affectionately while Severus looked on.

"Merry Christmas, Min," Zoe said.

"Merry Christmas," Minerva replied. She gave Zoe an extra squeeze. "And for Merlin's sake, stay out of trouble. I'd like for you to be able to spend time with me this summer."

Zoe let out an amused breath of air. "I will."

After gathering her cloak and all the books she had received from Minerva, Zoe stepped into the fire and whirled away to Spinner's End.

Severus gathered his own cloak and took up Zoe's broomstick as he headed toward the Floo.

"You're aware that she'll have to continue to use one of the school brooms for her flying lessons, aren't you?" Minerva asked.

Severus turned and gave a single, curt nod. "She's only to use it under my sole supervision while still in her first year. Which I suppose means that I shall have to work on my Aversion Charm for the Quidditch pitch to keep curious students at bay while she's flying."

Minerva nodded. "You made her whole Christmas with that gift, you know," she said. "And the earrings, of course. Finley said they were all she talked about during dinner."

"Tell him I apologize if he was bothered by her loquaciousness," Severus responded.

Minerva scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. She's a wonderful girl and he was delighted to listen to her. I merely wished to convey to you that you… well, as the Americans would say, you 'hit it out of the ballpark'. Zoe is likely to remember this Christmas all her life."

Severus looked into the Headmistress's eyes and, upon seeing her sincerity, he inclined his head in thanks for her praise before stepping into the fireplace, throwing down the Floo powder, and speaking his destination.

* * *

><p>Immediately upon exiting the Floo at home and dusting herself off, Zoe made her way upstairs to her bedroom to change into her pajamas and put her new books away in the bookcase at the foot of her bed. As she carefully moved her other books around to make room for the new and meticulously alphabetized them all by author, she reflected on the last couple of days.<p>

Christmas Day had been wonderful, but for some reason, her thoughts had settled on the events of Christmas Eve. She had been thoroughly surprised to discover that her father knew how to dance. It just seemed out-of-character or, at the very least, not something he would consider worth knowing. Though she'd been going to the Christmas balls for as long as she could remember, she'd never seen her father dance there before. Granted, she'd never really spent any time in the ballroom to have seen her father dance. Inwardly, she wondered if he ever had or if this year had been the year he'd broken the mold.

And he'd done it for her in addition to teaching her to dance, encouraging her choices in choosing whom she danced with (mostly), and allowing her to fully participate, despite her restriction. She smiled at the pleasant memories of that night.

Of course, as these thoughts and memories entered her mind, she couldn't help but focus in on her conversation with Albus and James Potter as well. She wondered what Albus had meant when he called her father _The_ Severus Snape. She supposed it was a pretty uncommon name, so there wasn't a likely chance that they had him confused with someone else…but he had acted as if her father was notorious or famous in some way, as if he knew a lot about him.

Of course, she'd been hearing strange things all during her first term at school. Everyone was so focused on those Death Eater people that there always seemed to be talk of the war that happened back before Zoe was born. She could only assume that the war had something to do with the Death Eaters.

Her father's name—as well as the name of Mr. Potter and several of her professors—always seemed to make their way into the conversations, as well. Nothing had been solidified in her mind, however, for older or more influential students tended to pass off every mention of names as rumors, speculation, or historical inaccuracies—as if the Slytherins who talked didn't really know all the facts. It was almost as if there wasn't anyone who _really_ knew what had taken place so many years before—though _everyone_ seemed to have an opinion. Despite all that, Zoe got the impression that it all somehow fit together, though. She just didn't know how.

Perhaps, she should just _ask_ her father what they were all on about? But something in the back of her mind cautioned against it. Aside from a few stories about his grandmother, Ophelia, and some general family history—names and such—her father didn't like to talk about much of anything that happened before she was born—not even about her own mother.

Zoe stopped sorting her books as she felt a sudden pang of bitterness rise up in her at that thought. She wished her father wanted to talk to her more about her mother…

She shook her head, dispelling those thoughts. It did not do to dwell on the aspects of a person's personality that she could not change. You had to embrace them despite their faults or quirks. That's how you showed that you loved them, respected them. That's what Minerva had told her once.

As Zoe went back to her books, she felt a single tear roll out of her right eye. She quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath. Why was she feeling so emotional all of a sudden?

Composing herself, she startled when the door to her attic bedroom opened.

"Zoe?"

Setting her last book in its place, Zoe stood from the floor.

"You can come up, Papa," she called to him, moving toward the head of her bed where she set _Pride and Prejudice _on the side table next to her wand.

As her father stepped fully into the room, Zoe crawled into bed, pulling the duvet all the way up to her chin. She gazed up at her father as he came to stand next to her bed, looking down on her.

"Remember, you need to write to Mrs. Malfoy tomorrow," he said, fiddling with the sleeve of his robes.

"I won't forget. It's not like I'll have much else to do on Boxing Day."

Her father arched a single eyebrow.

"I have plans for you in the conservatory."

Zoe gave a long groan and turned her face into her pillow. Not extra chores…

She supposed she should have expected this. Her father hadn't been wrong in what he'd said to her earlier; she really hadn't been affected by her restriction too much since it had been handed to her. Plus, after a whole term away, the plants in the conservatory were most likely in desperate need of attention. Even if she hadn't gotten into trouble two days into the holidays, she probably would have been asked to help her father sort them out anyway. She just didn't like feeling as if she was doing it for punishment because she actually enjoyed pruning and such when she was simply asked to help her father or Mr. Leach—when the Herbologist came for harvesting and preservation, that is.

She kept her face buried in her pillows, coming to terms with the end of her relaxing holiday, until her father cleared his throat. She turned her head to look up at him again.

"Did you enjoy the day?" he asked.

Zoe nodded. "Yes, thank you. It was a good day. Did you?"

She smiled at him as he inclined his head in the affirmative before reaching down and placing an affectionate hand on her head briefly.

"Go to sleep," he said softly, turning to make his exit.

Zoe bit her lip, quickly having an internal debate with herself. Making a decision, she called out to her father before he could descend the stairs.

"Papa? Do you think Mum would have liked seeing me ride my broom today?"

Her father turned to stare at her. His expression looked a bit troubled.

"I—" he began. He closed his mouth and paused. "I believe so, yes."

Zoe couldn't help the grin that erupted on her face as a mental image of her mother watching her zoom about the Quidditch pitch formed in her mind. She was so content with the fantasy that she barely registered that her father had practically fled down the stairs as she burrowed further under her duvet, hoping for pleasant dreams.

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><p><em><strong>Please review! Come on, don't make me beg! ;-)<strong>_


	22. Victoria Abernathy

_**Wow, check me out! Two chapters in two days! Woohoo! **_

**_Anyway, here's chapter 22 for all of your enjoyment. Like the previous chapter, this one isn't terribly plot-driving, but there's a few things in there that will be important for later... This one has some fun humor (I think) and a bit of emotion as well. I hope you all enjoy it!_**

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><p><strong>Victoria Abernathy<strong>

Even after spending a good portion of Boxing Day working in the conservatory, Zoe was still expected over the next couple of days to complete a slew of tasks her father had assigned her for her restriction. She awoke late three days after Christmas and dressed quickly in the drafty chill of her attic bedroom—she'd have to remember to tell her father that the warming charm was wearing off again.

As she pulled one of her older jumpers out of her wardrobe, she spied the Jetstream 1200 leaning against the wall. She still couldn't believe that, even after all the trouble she had been in over the holidays, her father had given her a broom. He was always so strict about adhering to the rules that the thought of her owning her own broom as a first year was still a bit baffling. Of course, he had assured her that it would reside in his quarters and she would only be allowed to fly it with his supervision, despite all of the flying lessons she had participated in over her first term, but Zoe thought she could handle those rules.

After dressing and tying the end of the loose, side plait she had just made her hair into, Zoe crept down the stairs to the first floor below. After a quick stop in the loo, she started to make her way outside.

Before passing her father's study, she poked her head inside the door to let him know she would be in the conservatory. As she went to leave, however, he called her back. Assuming it was to inform her of more work that she could do or otherwise reprimand and criticize her for what work she _had_ done, Zoe solemnly reentered the study, timidly playing with the door handle, her eyes on the floor. She knew her pruning of the fluxweed the day before had been a bit sloppy; she should have done it correctly the first time.

She heard her father sigh heavily.

"Zoe, do stop fidgeting in the doorway. Come here."

Zoe shuffled her feet a bit more then walked to stand next to her father's desk. He appeared to be grading some long essays. He took off his glasses and swiveled his chair to face her better.

"We're having a guest for dinner tonight."

"Minerva?" Zoe asked excitedly, instantly perking up at the indication that her father wasn't going to scold her.

"No. A potential new client."

"Oh," Zoe said.

From time to time, her father would have these dinners to try to secure a new contract for his potions business. It was nothing big or special for Zoe. She was only required to dress in nicer robes or a dress and not speak unless spoken to, though her father often made a point to include her in the pleasant conversation that occurred before business talk started. She was usually not expected to hang around and her father would typically excuse her as soon as she finished eating.

"Dinner will be at six; therefore I want you inside and in the shower by four."

"All right," Zoe said, cheering on the inside. That was a whole hour she was getting off her tasks.

Her father nodded and turned back to his work. Zoe too turned away to continue outside. Before she exited the study, however, her father spoke again.

"I better see more care with the aconite than what I witnessed with the fluxweed, young lady, or cauldron scrubbing will become a part of your daily chores as well."

Zoe cringed. "Yes, sir," she said quietly.

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><p>At six minutes to six that evening, Zoe sat slouched in her father's armchair picking at her fingernails. Her father had insisted that she wear a mysterious set of fuchsia robes that he had pulled from a delivery box in his study. Zoe didn't know where they had come from; she just knew that her father didn't typically buy her any clothing unless she had tried it on first and that Minerva would have known exactly what size to get.<p>

As it was, these robes were a bit big—she had tripped on them twice coming down the stairs and the sleeves were entirely too long—and, frankly, they weren't Zoe's style. She preferred her clothing simple and comfortable. The robes she was currently wearing were a bit frilly around the cuffs and hemline for her tastes and there were little flowers embroidered around the waist.

Just as the clock on the mantle struck six, her father came down the stairs into the sitting room. He was wearing black robes that were much nicer and more traditionally cut than his typical work or teaching robes, yet they weren't dress robes; they were more of something he would wear for a meeting with the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

Zoe stood from the chair almost immediately.

"May I _please_ wear something else, Papa?" she whinged. "These robes don't fit right."

"They don't fit _correctly_…You look…" Zoe could tell that he didn't necessarily approve of the style either. "…acceptable," he said, pulling out his wand.

He aimed it at her hem and it shortened to the proper length for Zoe. She saw him scowl.

"I said you were to wear your dress shoes this evening, not your trainers," he scolded.

"My dress shoes are too small," Zoe defended.

"Don't you have some flats or something else a bit more appropriate for a semi-formal dinner? What about the heels Mrs. Malfoy bought for you?"

Zoe shook her head. "I left most of my clothes in my trunk at Hogwarts and the Christmas shoes should go with a dress, not robes. Plus, they gave me blisters on my little toes. I _could_ wear my wellies or my slippers instead, I suppose…"

Her father glared at her, disapproving of her sass. "The trainers will do," he said through gritted teeth. "You haven't time to change anyway… Arms."

Zoe held out her arms, allowing the sleeves to fall down over her hands until her father adjusted those magically as well. With a final wave, the waist cinched a bit closer to her; now the robes seemed almost as if they had been tailored specifically for Zoe—almost. She looked down at herself briefly then back up to her father.

"I still don't like them," she stated.

"Nor do I," he said candidly just as the crack of Apparition sounded outside.

Her father waited where he stood until the knock on the door came then he strode purposefully toward it with Zoe following close behind—her father also insisted that she greet his potential new clients at the door with him.

She waited just behind him in the entryway as her father pulled the door inward.

"Madam Abernathy," he greeted, holding his hand out to shake the woman's hand. "Welcome."

Zoe looked at the witch before her. The woman was tall—though Zoe assumed it was because she was wearing heels—with very thick blonde hair. Though it was quite cold outside, she wore long, flowing, lavender-colored robes that were made of satin—no, _silk_—that hugged her frame snuggly. Madam Abernathy wasn't a large woman, by any means, or even chubby, but she was quite curvaceous and was obviously not shy about certain assets that she possessed.

"Severus, darling!" the woman exclaimed, leaning forward and touching her right cheek to Zoe's father's cheek.

She walked into the entryway, her face plastered with an enormous smile as she looked about. Zoe raised an eyebrow at this for there wasn't much to see except the old-fashioned wainscoting of the walls, the cloak rack, and the dented old umbrella stand.

"It is so lovely of you to invite me to your lovely home."

This time, Zoe wrinkled her brow. Had the woman really just used the word 'lovely' twice in the same sentence? Was she trying to be ironic? The woman hadn't seemed to notice her faux pas as Zoe's father closed the door.

When Madam Abernathy caught sight of Zoe, her eyes absolutely lit up—hungrily, in Zoe's opinion, like a predator spotting their prey—and she immediately moved toward her. Zoe's first instinct was to take a cautious step backwards, but somehow she knew that wouldn't be received well by their guest or her father, so she stood her ground. She tried not to wince as the witch placed a cold, multi-ringed hand on her cheek.

"Oh, she's lovely, Severus…"

There was that 'lovely' again.

"The way you talked about her, I expected a little girl. But look, she's so grown up! She'll be turning young wizards' heads in no time!"

Zoe's frown was an exact mirror of her father's. "I should hope not," he said simply. Madam Abernathy smiled brightly.

"You just wait," she teased in a sing-songy voice, winking at the wizard. "And, yet, I see so much of you in her," Madam Abernathy then said as she turned back to Zoe and held out her hand.

Zoe didn't really want to make acquaintance with this woman, but knew it was expected of her to be polite. She reluctantly took her hand and shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Abernathy. I'm Zoe Snape."

"Such manners!" the woman exclaimed, looking over her shoulder back to Zoe's father, who gave her a rather discomfited half-smile. "You must run a tight ship, indeed. Why, she's absolutely charming!"

Zoe frowned. What had she expected? An ogre? And why was she talking as if Zoe wasn't in the same room hearing the entire conversation?

"Please, Madam, may I take your cloak?" her father asked, striding forward to help the woman.

"Oh, yes, please."

Once her father had finished that task, Madam Abernathy's attention went straight back to Zoe.

"I'm so very pleased to see that you like the robes," she stated. "Well, go on, give me a twirl."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, glanced briefly down at her body, then back up, locking eyes with her father who now stood completely behind the witch. He did a nearly imperceptible nod of his head and Zoe suddenly understood that the robes had been a gift from this woman to Zoe. As she spun slowly to allow the woman to see the full fitting of the robes on Zoe's thin frame, she ground her teeth.

She couldn't help but be annoyed with him now. Why couldn't he have just explained that? It was only as she came back around to face the adults once more that she stopped grinding them to give a sugary smile to the woman instead.

"Thank you, Madam Abernathy, I think they're absolutely _lovely_."

Zoe ignored the stern, narrowed eyes her father directed at her as he stepped forward once more to intervene in the conversation.

"Madam Abernathy, if you'll come this way, we may sit in the lounge until dinner is served," he said, holding out his hand to show the way out of the entryway.

The _lounge_. With anyone else, it was just the sitting room. Zoe rolled her eyes as her father escorted Abernathy out of the entryway. She couldn't really fault him, she supposed. After all, she knew he didn't particularly enjoy this aspect of being a freelance potioneer—dining and trying to impress prospective new clients—but Zoe also knew he had to have met this woman at least once before to have come to the dinner part of his negotiations. What about her potential business enabled her father to look past the woman's obvious character flaws to make him interested in brewing for her? She must want him to brew something really complicated, for her father enjoyed all the difficult potions the most. Zoe also bet that he was going to make loads of Galleons for whatever potions the woman needed.

"Oh, Severus, do show me your laboratory," Madam Abernathy practically pleaded without even taking a seat on the sofa she had been offered. "I'd much rather see your work space than sit here idle for goodness knows how long."

This time, Zoe's father saw her roll her eyes and he shot her a severe glare that clearly told Zoe to behave herself.

"If you wish," her father said to the Abernathy woman. "It's just through the kitchen."

Zoe watched them go for she had every intention of staying put and letting her father entertain to his heart's content. However, just before Madam Abernathy and her father had exited the sitting room, the witch turned back and beckoned her to follow.

"Oh, Zoe, do come along. I'm so very curious about you."

_I'm_ _sure_, Zoe thought scathingly. She was starting to feel like her father was going to owe her for having to put up with this insufferable witch.

The trio entered the kitchen—it had taken longer than was purely necessary to get there, but Madam Abernathy had to stop to look at and comment on every insignificant little thing along the way. Ollie had temporarily made herself scarce. The wonderful smell of the lamb cooking, however, made her presence very much known by Zoe, whose mouth practically started to water. Zoe loved lamb, though Ollie only made it for these dinners for her father felt that the meat was much too expensive for normal dinners for him and Zoe.

"I am dreadfully thirsty."

Zoe opened her eyes. She had been basking in the amazing smells of the kitchen, not just the lamb, but also the baking bread.

Madam Abernathy was looking at her now, an expectant look upon her face.

"Zoe, darling, be a dear and fix me up a glass of cool water, will you?"

Zoe's jaw dropped and she looked almost indignantly at her father. His eyebrows rose and it was once again clear to Zoe that he expected her to be courteous to this guest and to do as she was asked. Zoe huffed inwardly.

"Yes, of course, Madam Abernathy, I'd be happy to," Zoe ground out. The woman hadn't even seemed to notice the hostility in her voice or the silent exchange that had just taken place between her hosts.

Zoe turned back toward the cabinets that held the drinking glasses as the witch and her father descended the stairs into the cellar. After retrieving a glass, she stalked to the sink and turned on the tap so that only a slow trickle came from it.

She took her time filling the glass for she had no desire to rejoin the party downstairs. The least amount of time she spent in that woman's presence, the better. After nearly five minutes—according to the clock above the sink—Zoe figured she couldn't stall any longer without her absence being noticed.

She sighed heavily and resigned herself to her continued, slow torture. After all, it was just one night. Her father would obtain his desired contract for whatever potions Madam Abernathy wished him to procure and, with any luck, Zoe would never have to deal with the woman again. Everybody wins.

She descended the stairs silently, but when she made it to the bottom, she froze and, in that moment, the decision she had just made to be civil and acquiescent flew completely from her mind as she looked upon the scene taking place before her.

Her father and the Abernathy woman were standing with their backs to the stairs, facing the workbench. Neither one of them seemed to have noticed Zoe's arrival. Zoe's father appeared to be explaining the effectiveness of crushing dried runespoor eggs into a fine powder rather than merely mincing them when using them in Strengthening Solution.

That wasn't what was upsetting Zoe, however. It was the proximity of the woman to her father that had her fuming. Madam Abernathy's right hip was brushing her father's left and the woman had her hand on her father's bicep as if in an effort to look up over his shoulder into the mortar. He said something then that Zoe didn't catch and Madam Abernathy immediately lit up into an exuberant laugh. Zoe knew her father wasn't much for anecdotes, so clearly the woman was faking it.

Furious, Zoe averted her eyes from the scene and stared into the glass panes of one of the cabinets to her right, her vision out of focus as she tried to control her emotions.

_Why_ was that woman here? For dinner, yes, she knew that. To secure a potion contract with her father. But then, what was this scene she had just walked in on? Was her father attracted to this horrid woman? Any dunderhead could tell that Madam Abernathy was attracted to him. Was that her motive in coming here?

Zoe didn't like this one bit.

Suddenly, the odd gift of robes was brought into stark perspective.

Oh, this woman was good. In fact, that seemed like a tactic one wouldn't just use—she had to have had experience in this particular form of manipulation. No doubt, upon learning that the Potions Master she was interested in had a daughter, she went about doing her best to get into Zoe's good graces. She was being used so that this woman could get to her father. And after all the expensive decorations the woman was wearing, Zoe now imagined that the robes she currently wore were of the highest quality as well, probably coming from one of the more posh shops in Diagon Alley. This thought made the resentment Zoe felt toward the hideous garment double.

No matter. She would burn the rags in the garden the next time her father left the house.

Taking a deep breath, Zoe's eyes came back into focus and she could clearly see the little bottles of potions residing behind the panes of glass of the cabinet. This was where her father kept most of the medicinal potions for his and Zoe's own use.

In an extended effort to calm down, Zoe began reading the labels on the bottles: headache potion for headaches, Anti-Nausea for upset stomachs, Valerian Solution for mild sedation, Pepperup Potion, Coughing Solution, Strengthening Solution, a burn paste of her father's own design, ipecac…

Zoe's eyes went wide for a moment as a plan formulated in her brain almost instantly. She looked down at the glass of water still in her hand then back to the woman who was still hanging on her father, then back to the tiny vial of syrup of ipecac and her lip curled maliciously.

She could do it. She could slip a bit of the emetic into the woman's water and all she'd have to do was wait. In a matter of minutes, Madam Abernathy would become so violently ill that she would have to take her leave and Zoe would—

Zoe would be in a whole mess of trouble, that's what.

Her father would recognize the effects of a dose of ipecac instantly and know that Zoe had not only the time to devise and execute such a trick, but also access to the method—the ipecac—and a means by which to accomplish it—the water.

Zoe looked across the room to her father then. Though nearly any punishment that she could think of that he may dole out for poisoning their guest would be worth it to rid them of the Abernathy woman, she shuddered to think about the haunted, disappointed look that his face would take after he had done so. Zoe didn't know that she could do that to him.

Shaking her head of the plan that no longer seemed so brilliant, Zoe stomped across the stone floor and pushed herself between the two adults without a second thought before reaching out and slamming the glass of water onto the workbench causing nearly a third of the liquid to slosh out onto her hand. Then, ignoring her father's shocked expression, she turned her eyes on Madam Abernathy.

"Your water," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I hope it's the right temperature."

Then, without a backward glance, Zoe turned and stomped back up the stairs. Other than alerting them to the fact that she was in a foul mood, she didn't think her actions had done anything to affect the adults' behavior for, once at the top of the stairs, she heard that woman's caustic laugh resonate up to her ears. Zoe also felt that the startling lack of action on her father's part to reprimand her was odd, if not completely out-of-character for him.

Dinner in the magically added dining room off the sitting room was an aggravating affair. Madam Abernathy spent nearly the entire first course trying to decide aloud whether it was cumin she tasted in the squash bisque or cinnamon. Considering cumin and cinnamon weren't anywhere close in taste, Zoe wrinkled her nose and stayed quiet, doing her best to tune out the woman's babbling by thinking about flying on her broom again. When her father commented that he thought the spice likely to be nothing more than pepper, the woman began gushing about his talents as a Potions Master.

She started spouting off some rubbish about how she had been admitted to St. Mungo's with the most debilitating of stomach ulcers and how effective the potion he had brewed was, exclaiming that it had worked almost instantly to cure her of her malady.

"And then I said to Healer Ryan," Madam Abernathy expounded. "I said, 'why, this potion works miracles, absolutely. You must give me the name of the brewer.' And Healer Ryan said, 'Well, that concoction happens to come from one of our finest freelance brewers, Severus Snape.' Of course, I'd heard of you already, but when I enquired further, I was informed that you no longer brewed for St. Mungo's. But, I knew that I simply _had_ to meet you, regardless; had to snatch you up for my own brewing. And look, here I am!"

Zoe rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and stared down into her soup. When Madam Abernathy and her father had come upstairs earlier, Zoe was again surprised when he hadn't commented on her behavior in the cellar. She would have found it doubly perplexing if not for the fact that the horrid woman hadn't let Zoe's father out of her sight since she'd arrived and he'd therefore had no chance to pull Zoe aside for a quick scolding.

Even now, the woman sat unnaturally close to him, a man she hardly knew aside from his exceptional Potions prowess.

Madam Abernathy leaned over to place a hand on Zoe's father's arm then, chuckling about something he'd said again that Zoe hadn't caught. No longer able to contain herself, Zoe finally looked up and addressed the woman.

"Madam Abernathy."

The woman turned curious eyes on Zoe.

"Oh, please, Zoe, darling, call me Victoria. I'm sure we are going to be such good friends."

_Friends? Ha!_ Zoe thought. _You'll be lucky to make it through dinner without a hex._

She smiled sweetly at the woman. Too sweetly, perhaps, if the scowl on her father's face was any indication.

"Madam Abernathy," Zoe began again, not caring to call the woman by her given name. "What sort of potions are you wanting Papa to brew for you or, er, for your company?"

Madam Abernathy looked shocked, almost scandalized, as she shot a look at Zoe's father.

"Why, Severus. You haven't told your daughter about my line of work?"

Zoe thought her father looked a bit uncomfortable.

"I don't typically discuss business with her on principle. I'm sure you understand my not wanting to burden her with adult issues too young."

Zoe had to stifle the urge to laugh aloud. Her father "burdened" her with his business all the time. Every time she worked in the conservatory or his lab—for either enjoyment or punishment—she was essentially contributing to the family vocation.

"Oh, but Severus, she's nearly a young woman! You can't keep her a little girl forever; she's going to be interested in my products before you know it!"

Zoe wrinkled her brow in confusion, looking to her father. His expression was still rather uncomfortable as Madam Abernathy took a sip of her wine and focused her eyes back on Zoe.

"I am the owner of _Witchcraft_," she said significantly.

Zoe was still confused.

"Oh, come now. _Witchcraft_. Surely, you've heard of it. It's a line of cosmetic potions, spells, and other remedies to keep witches looking fit and beautiful. It's marketed mainly to working mums with products ranging from wrinkle-free elixirs to energy boosting potions and tablets, even common shampoos and soaps. Though, we have quite an extensive line, including our line for teen witches—for girls just like you, Zoe."

The marketing spiel had annoyed Zoe even more. _Of_ _course_, this woman sold beauty potions. It was so clichéd that it made perfect sense.

Ollie brought the main course then, so Zoe wasn't able to voice her opinion on the matter of beauty potions for girls her age. The table grew silent for almost a full two minutes as they all tucked in. Well, Madam Abernathy and her father tucked in. Zoe, on the other hand, spent that time pushing her asparagus to the side of her plate—she _hated_ asparagus. She watched through her eyelashes as the witch across from her once again touched her father's arm much too affectionately for Zoe's tastes, commenting on Ollie's impeccable cooking of the lamb. Suddenly, the woman turned to Zoe again.

"So, Zoe, I hear you started at Hogwarts this year. Isn't that exciting? I'm a Beauxbatons graduate myself, but I hear Hogwarts is excellent, if not a bit eccentric as far as most of the magical schools go. Are you enjoying it there?"

Finally, something Zoe could actually speak about, though she had no intention of making nice with this woman. Besides, she'd called Hogwarts _eccentric_ and Zoe took offense to that.

"It's _lovely_," Zoe stated, once more emphasizing the word dramatically. Her father cleared his throat in warning, but Madam Abernathy didn't seem to notice yet again. This woman really was quite thick…

The witch beamed; she seemed almost genuinely interested. Almost. "I hear they split the students into houses. Which house do you belong to?"

"Slytherin."

"And do you enjoy it there?"

"Yes."

One-word answers were perfect. She could answer the woman's questions without annoying or angering her father with sarcasm and cheek. It was the perfect solution to getting through dinner. Until Madam Abernathy's attention reverted back to Zoe's father.

"And you, Severus, how are you enjoying your return to teaching?" she asked him.

"I find it…challenging...at times."

_Sure, if _challenging_ was another word for _practicallyintolerable, Zoe thought. She knew teaching wasn't her father's favorite thing in the world.

"My students are not nearly as driven as I would prefer they be. Many do not take sufficient time or effort to—"

For a third time, Madam Abernathy's hand came down onto Zoe's father's arm, as if to console him for his teaching difficulties. Zoe glared at the woman through narrowed eyes.

"Do you use your own products, Madam Abernathy?" she suddenly asked boldly, interrupting her father.

"_Zoe_."

There was a look on her father's face that clearly conveyed that it was now past the time for her to be seen and not heard.

"What?" she said innocently, ignoring his reprimanding tone of voice. "I'm only curious."

"It's all right, Severus. It's an honest question."

The woman patted his arm this time and Zoe saw red.

"I'm often asked that, for people are always curious whether I use the very products I manufacture and endorse," the woman professed as she took a bite of potatoes. "The answer is: absolutely."

"Which products do you use?" Zoe asked. Her ire was indeed making her quite bold this evening and the woman was so completely oblivious to it. Her father, however, was not. He was cutting his lamb rather forcefully.

"Oh, this and that. _Vitality_, which is a daily potion for beautiful, supple skin; of course, there's the herbal tea that I drink every morning for long life; various salves and creams for unsightly marks and our number one best-seller, _Wrinkle-Gone_, which every witch over thirty should definitely invest in."

"I don't see why. It doesn't seem to do its job."

The knife and fork her father held in his hands came down hard on his plate causing a loud clatter. He glared at Zoe dangerously.

"What?" Zoe asked again, continuing to play up the innocence act.

"That was uncalled for," her father scolded.

Zoe looked down at her plate.

"I was just making an observation," she mumbled to it, pushing her food around with her fork.

"If you are unable to keep your _observations_ cordial and polite, you may excuse yourself from this table. Now, apologize to Madam Abernathy for your deplorable rudeness."

Zoe looked up at him then. He wanted her to _apologize_? He'd never made her leave the table before, but the look on her father's face was deadly serious. He would enforce his command. She did feel somewhat guilty now. Not for what she had said to the cow, but for the good impression she was ruining—the whole reason her father hosted these dinners in the first place. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Either apologize or excuse yourself," he reiterated. Zoe could tell he was certain she'd apologize and continue with her meal, and under less maddening circumstances, she probably would have. But one glance at the self-righteous look on Madam Abernathy's face and she stood abruptly, throwing her napkin onto her plate.

"_Excuse_ _me_," she stated moodily and stormed from the dining room.

She didn't go far. Just past the doorway, really. She was waiting for it all to hit the fan, but her father didn't come after her. She heard him apologize for his daughter's behavior before Madam Abernathy launched into some more rubbish about the normal moodiness of pre-adolescent girls and even going so far as to recommend a tonic from her company that would balance out her hormones and make Zoe a much more agreeable child.

_Poison_, _probably_, Zoe thought.

She rolled her eyes. Surely, her father wasn't falling for that?

She sighed, made her way through the house, and quietly climbed the stairs. After changing out of the horrible robes she had been forced to wear and into jeans and a jumper, she went back to the first floor and entered her father's study, deciding to read for Charms.

That's where her father found her over an hour later: on her back on the sofa, engrossed in her reading.

"Are you prepared to come downstairs and be a civil host now?" he drawled from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

"You mean that _witch_ is still here?" Zoe asked scathingly, without looking away from her book.

"Yes, she is," he said.

"Then, no. I'm fine up here."

Her father walked across the room to stand beside the sofa. He looked down on her, a severe frown on his face.

"For your sake, I'm going to pretend that you didn't just use the term 'witch' to imply that Madam Abernathy was anything other than a woman with magical abilities."

Zoe shrugged. "If you want to pretend…"

"_Watch_ _it_," her father warned sternly through gritted teeth. The two grew quiet.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked then. "You have never behaved in this manner at any other client dinners."

Zoe sat up then and stared up at her father with indignation.

"Your other clients weren't…_repugnant_."

Her father arched a single eyebrow, keeping his composure cool in the face of her spitefulness. "As pleased as I am to see that your vocabulary is improving, Madam Abernathy is _not_ repugnant."

"Is so."

Her father frowned.

"Fine. Be petulant and sulk—_for_ _now_. But I can assure you, young lady, that we will soon be having a serious conversation about your behavior tonight. I do hope you come up with a better excuse than the one you just gave."

"_Fine_," Zoe said, laying back down and opening her book again. It was immediately snatched out of her hands, however. She glared up at her father.

"Go prepare yourself for bed," he ordered.

"But it's only eight!"

"And you will be going to bed early after that little performance; Merlin knows your attitude could benefit from it. I will go see to Madam Abernathy's departure, then we'll have a chat, and you will go to bed."

Figuring she had pushed her father's patience far enough that night, Zoe went up to her bedroom to change into her nightgown without further dispute and only enough huffing and heavy footfalls befitting her previous behavior. Less than ten minutes later, she was slouched on the sofa in the study once more, her father beside her.

"Sit properly," he admonished, nudging her back to get her to sit up straight.

Zoe lifted herself up the cushions and turned to lean her back against the armrest, facing her father better. She brought her knees up to her chest, stretched the fabric of her nightgown over them, and then wrapped her arms around them.

The two sat quietly staring at each other until her father finally raised his eyebrows and frowned.

"Well?" he asked after a huff.

"Well, what?" Zoe asked, confused.

"I'm waiting for you to explain your baffling display of disrespect and hostility toward our guest this evening."

"Oh," Zoe said, shifting uncomfortably. "I was waiting for you to start telling me off."

Her father rolled his eyes.

"I've no doubt we will get to that. However, your behavior tonight was out-of-character and I think you're old enough now to properly explain yourself before I begin 'telling you off'. So, explain."

Zoe shrugged.

"I didn't like her," she said.

"That much was obvious," her father stated dryly. "Though that is not even close to being an adequate explanation. Continue."

Zoe huffed and shrugged again.

"I don't know. She was just… Well, you saw how she was. She bought me robes even though she'd never met me before and she kept calling me _darling_. I _hate_ being called darling, except by Minerva. And then she only wanted me to get her water and try to interest me in her stupid beauty potions," Zoe ended in a grumble, looking away from her father to the floor.

He sat silently for a moment. "So, let me get this straight. Because the business woman I was trying to convince into a new contract bought you expensive robes that you disliked, called you a term of endearment that you find unsavory, asked you politely for a small favor, and tried to interest you in products that are her livelihood, you felt that was sufficient grounds to splash her with water, mope about, and be generally disrespectful and unpleasant?"

Well, when he put it like _that_, it _did_ seem rather childish and silly. At the time, however, it was all Zoe could do not to try out the Bat-Bogey Hex James had told her about.

"Hmm?" her father pressed. Apparently, he hadn't intended for that to be a rhetorical question.

Zoe looked up into his eyes, but she didn't really have a defense. At her lack of response, her father sighed and shook his head.

"I cannot begin to fathom what has been going through your head recently, but these insubordinate and unacceptable behaviors are going to stop whether by your own doing or through any number of consequences I could impo—"

"She fancies you!" Zoe suddenly shouted. She didn't think she could take another scolding or lecture for something she didn't feel was entirely her fault.

"I beg your pardon?" Her father's eyes blinked dumbly and he wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

"_Victoria_ Abernathy," Zoe spat lowly. "She fancies you."

"She most certainly does not," her father defended lamely.

"Yes, she does. She kept touching your arm and sitting really close to you and laughing when you said stuff that wasn't even funny. And I know why she bought me those robes."

"Oh?" her father said distractedly. If Zoe had to guess, she imagined he was going over the night's events in his head.

"Yes. She wanted me to like her so that you'd like her too. I heard Remy Frakes talking in Herbology once and he said that his stepfather bought him loads of new things like sweets and games and a racing broom to ingracitate himself to him."

"_Ingratiate_," her father corrected. "And I'd hardly trust the word of a Gryffindor on such matters. Their stories tend to lean toward far-fetched."

Zoe pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, now used to his prejudice toward the house. He was looking away from her, a thoughtful expression on his face and his eyes distant. Eventually, he gave Zoe a sidelong glance. She was still staring at him with conviction. Her father cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

"You have my apologies, Zoe," he said.

Zoe's eyes went wide in disbelief. "What for? You didn't do anything wrong."

Her father shook his head. "On the contrary, I put you into an uncomfortable situation in your own home. I should have warned you that Madam Abernathy had something of a grating personality and informed you of the possibility that she could be somewhat…_flirty_. In my efforts to appease her whims in order to secure a contract, I disregarded how you may feel about her and her futile advancements toward me. I apologize."

Zoe nodded her head in acceptance but still amazed that he'd apologized.

"Did you get the contract anyway?" she asked curiously after a moment of silence.

"Of course," her father said confidently.

Zoe wrinkled her nose. "So, then, you're really going to be making all sorts of rubbish beauty potions for working mums?"

Her father gave her a look that seemed almost affronted that she would ask such a thing. "Absolutely not," he stated plainly. "The contract I secured was for a rather challenging potion for Madam Abernathy's personal use, not for that infernal _Witchcraft_ line."

"The ulcer potion?"

Her father inclined his head in the affirmative and the two of them fell quiet.

"All right, bed," he ordered after a few moments.

Zoe's head swiveled to the clock on the bookshelf behind her father's desk.

"But it's still early," she complained.

"And you were still an ill-mannered monster at dinner."

Zoe wrinkled her nose again in distaste, but rose from the sofa. Before she started to her bedroom, however, she turned and looked down to her father who had remained sitting.

"So, there's no chance that Madam Abernathy is ever going to be my stepmother, right?"

Her father grimaced.

"Certainly not."

Zoe nodded and looked at her feet. "Will I…ever…have a stepmother?" she asked slowly, softly, not entirely sure why it had occurred to her to ask this question.

Her father furrowed his brow a moment as he stared at her. After a few moments, he swiped his hand over his face as if he was exhausted and sighed heavily. He reached out and took a hold of Zoe's wrist, pulling her to sit down beside him and wrapping his arm around her to bring her close. Zoe relaxed into his side. It wasn't often that her father initiated such closeness and she always took advantage when he did.

"What has brought this on?" he asked.

Zoe shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I was just thinking about what it would be like if Madam Abernathy _was_ my stepmother. But you said that there was no chance that she ever would be and then I thought about what it would be like to have a different stepmother, any stepmother."

"You thought all this just now?"

Zoe nodded sheepishly.

"Simply out of curiosity, do you feel you would be averse to it?" her father asked.

"I like that it's just you and me," Zoe said simply, putting her head against his shoulder. "But I suppose it would depend on the woman."

Her father nodded pensively, soaking in her opinion. After a moment, he looked down on her.

"I think it's safe to say that that particular ship has long since sailed for me. I don't anticipate an… _involvement_…with anyone at this stage of my life, nor am I out looking for a suitable stepmother for you. And, even if I were, let me assure you that no commitments would be made on my part without first informing and consulting you."

"Promise?" Zoe asked.

"I am a man of my word, Zoe."

She smiled up at him.

"I think you've stalled long enough," he said then, pulling his arm out from around her. "To bed, Miss Zoe."

* * *

><p>Minutes after Severus heard the sounds of his daughter's feet padding across the attic floor, he remained in place on the study sofa, reflecting on the conversation he'd just had with her.<p>

He supposed he should have anticipated her asking such a question. After all, other children had two parents; all her friends had two parents. Even in a day-in-age when more unconventional arrangements of families—two mothers, two fathers, single mothers, stepparents—was the norm, a young girl being raised by a single father was still something of an anomaly, especially in the wizarding world. Despite her ability to see past the norm and understand that every family was different, she wasn't impervious to the knowledge that there was something missing in the Snape household—at least by traditional standards.

Her question tonight as well as her curiosity about her mother on Christmas night proved that.

His daughter was coming to an age where the absence of a female presence in her life was becoming much more acute, therefore he supposed it was only natural for her to ask about the prospects of a stepmother entering her life.

Still, he hadn't expected it and he could only hope that he'd diffused her worries enough that she wouldn't settle her thoughts on such a scenario too much.

Though, he was rather amused and flattered with her unapologetic jealousy of Madam Abernathy's flirtations. Despite the inappropriateness of her behavior overall, he couldn't fault her convictions in trying to submarine his contract in order to protect him from someone she clearly viewed as some sort of horrible piranha woman.

Smirking, Severus stood and walked to his desk. He still had a rather large stack of third- through seventh-year essays to mark before the coming term began in a week.

* * *

><p>She may have been sent to bed early as some sort of lax penance, but Zoe had lain awake for hours, tossing and turning, the events of that night replaying in her head over and over again. It had been some time since the guilt of something had kept her up and she knew the feeling well, especially after the cellar incident.<p>

She didn't want to disappoint her father again but the plan she'd devised against Madam Abernathy that night had been wholly malicious.

Cripes. Had she really intended to poison someone? What had made her think of that in the first place? She didn't know. It had just seemed to creep up into her mind unhindered.

Zoe turned from her side onto her back then and stared up into the exposed rafters of her bedroom. She knew from experience that if she told someone about why she was guilty, she would feel much better. Minerva was always an excellent ally in this regard, for she seemed to be more inclined than her father was to listen to Zoe's reasoning and take into account her emotions regarding the matter.

But Minerva wasn't readily available at the moment and Zoe knew that if she didn't get this off her chest, she'd never sleep.

Therefore, she rose from her bed and pushed her feet into her slippers before standing and wrapping herself in her warm dressing gown. Quietly, she descended the attic stairs, intent on waking her father.

When she had descended onto the first floor landing, however, she saw the unmistakable glow of her father's desk lamp in his study. Bypassing his dark bedroom, Zoe approached the open door of the study and peeked inside.

Her father was leaning back in his chair at his desk, still in the trousers he'd worn at dinner. He'd shed his robes but retained his white, cotton button-up shirt, which he'd untucked from his trousers. His feet were bare. It was as if he had started to prepare for bed, but had been interrupted.

He hadn't seemed to notice Zoe standing in the doorway as he read a letter, but he glanced up at her as soon as she started walking across the room toward him. His face lined into a frown, though Zoe didn't believe it was because of her.

She halted at the end of his desk and placed her hands on top, wringing her fingers together.

"Why can't you sleep?" he asked, his tone quiet and curious.

Zoe looked away from him. She hadn't thought about how she was actually going to broach the subject of her dark thoughts with him. She therefore stalled.

"Why can't you?" she countered quietly.

Her father raised a single eyebrow over the rim of his rectangular glasses and looked at her fully, absolutely aware of her tactic.

"Did you do your Occlumency exercises before going to sleep?" he asked then, still quiet and calm.

Zoe bit her lip and looked away from him. She hadn't done them. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn't be awake now. Though, she didn't think they would have helped to take away her guilt.

When Zoe looked back to her father, she saw that his lips were pressed together in obvious disapproval that she hadn't practiced that night, but he didn't comment on it. He held the letter he'd been reading out to her.

"I've just received an owl," he said in response to her question.

Zoe wrinkled her brow, confused, but took the letter from her father's hand and started to read it. After a minute, she looked up at him, shocked.

"Mr. Constantine died?"

"I'm afraid so."

"That's awful. I really liked him," Zoe said sadly.

She continued to read the letter. It didn't say much and it was very formal—merely informing her father of the unfortunate passing of apothecary owner, Aldous Constantine. "It also says that you're in his will, you and your dependent child."

"That would be you," her father clarified.

"I know that, but… Why would Mr. Constantine put us in his will? Aren't those supposed to be for families?"

Her father shook his head. "Not necessarily. I happen to know that you feature nearly as heavily in Minerva's will as her own sons and grandchildren do, and she is not a family member."

"Minerva isn't blood, but she's family," Zoe stated resolutely, looking down at the parchment in her hands once more. "We have to go to the Ministry of Magic, this says."

Her father nodded and delicately took the parchment from Zoe's hands.

"Yes. We'll go first thing tomorrow morning, which means that you and I both need to sleep. Therefore, the sooner you tell me what is on your mind, the sooner the both of us can go to bed."

Zoe fidgeted and looked at her feet.

"I…" she began to mumble, almost incoherently. She paused, unsure how to start. She took a fortifying breath and then looked up into her father's eyes. "I think you should punish me."

"You're already being punished; you're on restriction," he stated plainly.

"I think you should punish me more…or again, I guess."

Her father's face took on a very bemused look. He pulled his glasses off his face and tossed them atop a stack of parchment on his desk. He leaned forward then and placed his elbows onto the surface, entwining his fingers together.

"Is there a particular transgression you wish me to punish you for," he asked dryly, "or are you merely hoping I'll turn a blind eye to your next act of misbehavior? …Which I can only assume you've already planned…"

Zoe grimaced. "No, I did something wrong already."

Her father wrinkled his brow. "Was this before or after I sent you to bed nearly five hours ago?"

"Before."

"Before or after dinner?"

"Before that."

Her father arched an eyebrow.

"Before or after Christmas day?"

Zoe fidgeted again. "After that. It was tonight."

Her father sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead in exasperation. Zoe was instantly remorseful for annoying him, but she just couldn't think of the best way to tell him that she was Dark. Yes, that was it. What she had wanted to do to Madam Abernathy that night had been inherently Dark. There was simply no other explanation for it in Zoe's mind.

"I do not wish to play this game with you; it is much too early in the morning," her father said rather tersely, eyeing her sternly. "Tell me what this is about now or go to bed and pray that I remain ignorant of whatever you have done that is so grievous."

Zoe bit her lip. After a moment, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and began to tell him everything that she had done during Madam Abernathy's visit from making fun of the overuse of the term 'lovely' (which he already knew about) to the strong desire she'd had to hex the woman before finally imparting the ipecac scheme in a low voice.

It hadn't taken long to tell him but, by the end, her father's face bore a frown so fierce, she wanted to shrink back out of the study entirely or, better yet, melt into the floor. However, she kept eye contact, bracing herself for the inevitable reprimand.

"Just to clarify…," he said after he had stared at her for several moments in complete silence. "Did you put _any_ ipecac into Madam Abernathy's water?"

Zoe shook her head vigorously. "No, sir. None at all. I didn't even open the cabinet to take the bottle out."

"Wise decision," her father stated succinctly, turning his eyes away from her only until she began to speak again.

"I thought that—" Zoe felt her cheeks flush. She fidgeted and then took a deep breath. "Well, I reckoned that if I _did_ put ipecac in Madam Abernathy's water that you'd know I'd done it and that you'd… I thought you'd go mental and that you might give me a smack or something for it and that you'd be disappointed and I didn't want that or for you to lose the contract… And it's just that, you gave me a broom for Christmas and Mum's earrings, even though I've been rotten all during the term and the holidays and... And I didn't want you to be disappointed again…"

A single tear leaked from her eyes as she saw her father's appraising expression.

"…and I know that what I did was wrong and that I shouldn't have done it," she continued to ramble. "In History of Magic, we've been learning about all sorts of things that evil, Dark wizards did and how some of them showed signs of being Dark even when they were little and I don't want to grow up to be a D-Dark witch and I… I d-don't want to be Dark. Please, Papa, punish me so that I w-won't be D-Dark. _P-Please_!"

It wasn't until her father vaulted up from his seat, a softened, almost pained look upon his face, did Zoe realize she'd become hysterical, crying full out.

When he crossed the study and exited, she was confused as to where he was going. She closed her eyes and hiccoughed a few times, trying to control herself, but the tears and influx of emotions wouldn't abate.

A minute later, her father reentered holding a wet flannel in his hands and it became obvious to Zoe that he must not have had his wand on him to summon the cloth, so he'd gone to fetch it himself.

He returned to his seat and reached forward to silently take hold of the tied waist-tie of her dressing gown, pulling her toward him. When she was standing directly in front of him, he reached up and started to wipe delicately at her face with the soft, cool cloth.

This had the almost instant effect of calming Zoe down and eventually, she took the cloth from him as her emotions subsided and the sudden feeling that she was much too old for her father to dry her tears in such a way took over.

After several minutes of listening to her sniffle, her father spoke to her, looking her directly in the eyes as he sat back in his chair.

"You silly girl," he said in a rather light tone, shaking his head slightly in apparent vexation. "I do not understand why you are so distressed. You just said that you didn't put any ipecac into the water. Were you lying?"

"No. But I _thought_ about it," Zoe persisted, swiping the flannel at her eyes again. At this point, she didn't even want to look at her father in case she might see disappointment on his face as she had after the cellar incident. "I even really wanted to. I know it was Dark."

"Zoe, look at me," her father said sternly, sitting forward and pulling the cloth away from her eyes. He cupped her chin in his hand. "You are _not_ Dark. You are far from it."

Zoe bit her lip again and looked away. She didn't really believe him. After all, poisoning people was what some of those Dark witches and wizards they were learning about in History of Magic had done to their enemies. Granted, the ipecac wouldn't have killed Madam Abernathy; it would have only made her a bit ill for a while. Yet, Zoe couldn't help but feel that such a fact was far from the point. She had wanted to hurt another person; she had wanted to make the witch suffer simply because Zoe was angry with her for flirting with her father. That seemed pretty Dark to Zoe.

Her father must have read the skepticism on her face because he huffed in a frustrated manner. Zoe knew that her persistence and questioning of things he told her annoyed him a bit.

"I think I _am_ Dark, Papa," Zoe stated before her father had a chance to speak. "I _really_ _wanted_ to poison Madam Abernathy—"

"But you _chose_ not to," her father said, a resolve to his tone. "That makes all the difference."

"How do you know for sure?"

"I know," he said resolutely.

Zoe stood quietly for a moment, trying to figure out how she could best convey to her father how she felt about this, but eloquence failed her.

"I still think you should punish me," she said lowly, looking away from him, her eyes unfocused.

Her father sighed heavily and looked away himself for a moment.

"Very well, if you insist," he said, turning back to look at her, his expression serious. "No pudding after dinner for a week, and I will hear no complaints about it."

Zoe glared at him. "_Papa_," she said, annoyed.

He arched a single eyebrow at her. It was his challenging expression for when she started to argue with him, but this time it was in jest rather than seriousness. Zoe let out her own aggravated huff of air.

"We don't ever have pudding except for special occasions anyway," she grumbled.

"I imagine it won't be a difficult punishment to adhere to, then."

Zoe continued to glare. She couldn't believe her father was being so cavalier about all this.

"So, you aren't _really_ going to punish me?"

Her father shook his head. "I cannot possibly punish you for something you merely _thought_ about doing, but did not actually follow through with. Yes, had you poisoned Madam Abernathy, you would have been disciplined accordingly. However, since you did not, there is no need for punishment. Merlin knows, I'd have been sacked on my very first day at Hogwarts had your godmother gotten wind of _half_ the things I _thought_ about doing to some of those dunderheads you call your peers."

Zoe looked away again. She just couldn't get the thought out of her head. After a moment, she felt her father's fingers on her chin, guiding her eyes back to his.

"Listen to me closely," he started. "Occasional Dark thoughts do not make you Dark. It is your actions that define you—whether you choose to do the right thing or not. Remember that."

And somehow, Zoe finally believed him for though his words had been simple, they'd also been sincere and powerful. She nodded her head slowly.

"What sort of Dark things did you think about doing to the dunderheads?" Zoe asked curiously after several moments of silence, an impish grin starting to form on her face now.

Her father gave her a mock-disapproving look, but stated nonchalantly: "I thought about knocking their heads together."

Zoe smiled fully.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Well? What did you think? I can't possibly know if you liked it (or hated it) if you don't review! Give me some feedback. I can take it, I promise. Have a great day!<em>**


	23. The Ministry of Magic

**Disclaimer: This chapter will contain some content that may disturb or offend someone, though there is nothing graphically described. I just wanted to put a small warning out there, mainly because I don't feel that it warrants a change of rating.**

_**That being said, this chapter begins to put into motion some darker themes being incorporated later in the story, but I hope you all will stay with me through it.**_

**_MetamorphmagusLupin_**

**_P.S. Sorry about the length. I know these chapters are getting a bit ridiculous._**

* * *

><p><strong>The Ministry of Magic<strong>

The next morning after a sleep that had finally been restful, Zoe's excitement about going to the Ministry for Magic for the first time had seemed to grow with each passing moment. She knew it hadn't gone unnoticed by her father. He'd worn an annoyed frown on his face for the entirety of breakfast, utterly unimpressed by her enthusiastic fidgeting and nearly endless questions about what the Ministry was like and how they were getting there.

And he'd been uncharacteristically critical of her attire.

"No. Proper wizard dress," he'd instructed her when she'd come downstairs in a pair of black, close-fitting jeans and one of her newest, nicest jumpers. She'd had to go back upstairs and change.

She had therefore donned a set of dark grey robes Minerva had chosen for her that had an ornate clasp across her clavicle and small, pale pink buttons down to her waist where the material split and hung open. She had paired it with one of her new, knee-length pleated black skirts with black tights and a powder-pink jumper that matched the buttons of her robes. When her father had caught sight of the trainers on her feet once more, he'd grumbled under his breath about regretting buying such hideous footwear for her before promptly pointing his wand at them and transfiguring them into a pair of black Mary Janes.

Of course, when Zoe vocally observed the hypocrisy that at least she was in fresh clothing whereas her father was wearing the same black, traditional robes he'd worn for dinner with Madam Abernathy the night before, he'd raised an eyebrow at her and moved toward the Floo.

"I changed my shirt," he said nonchalantly.

She rolled her eyes at him behind his back.

"What's the Ministry like?" Zoe asked again curiously as she bounced her way to her father's side on the hearth, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

"You do remember we are not visiting the Ministry for enjoyment?" he responded. "The reading of a will is likely to be a somber affair."

Zoe looked down to her feet then. "I know," she said, genuinely remorseful for her over-exuberance in light of a death. "But… well…I've never been to the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Constantine would have understood, wouldn't he, Papa?"

Her father paused a moment, thinking, then inclined his head in the affirmative.

"Just…try to contain yourself," he said with only slight exasperation as he took a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle then and tossed it into the grate. He turned to look at Zoe as the fireplace grew magically to accommodate their heights.

"I think it best that we travel together."

"Aw, Papa," Zoe complained. "I'm old enough to Floo by myself."

"I do not contest that. However, due to the nature of the rush and chaos within the Atrium and seeing as how it is your first time there, we shall go together."

Zoe gave a great heave and huff of annoyance at what she perceived to be a gross tendency for overprotection on her father's part, but she nodded her head nonetheless, conceding.

Her father gave a curt nod and held his elbow out for Zoe to take. When she had latched on, they walked into the green flames.

"Atrium, Ministry for Magic," her father stated clearly and, in an instant, they were whisked away.

Zoe swayed a bit when they landed in one of the arrivals fireplaces, but her father clasped a hand around her arm and steadied her. When they stepped fully out of the Floo, Zoe's eyes grew wide with amazement.

She had never seen any place so vast in her life. The Atrium seemed bigger even than King's Cross Station—it was definitely bigger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The floors were dark wood, but polished to the opulence of marble and the ceiling arched so high above her head that she had to tilt her neck as far back as it would go in order to view its immensity.

As her father guided her farther into the hall following the throng of Ministry employees and away from the Floo channels, they passed through colossal arches and long walls, all inlaid with dark-turquoise metro tiles.

Halfway down the Atrium, Zoe and her father came to an enormous, regal fountain—the Fountain of Magical Brethren, the plaque read. It was a large, oval pool and in the middle stood golden statues of a wizard, witch, goblin, mermaid, house elf, centaur, and many other magical creatures, all built to scale of each other and all spouting water from various parts of them.

Her father allowed her to pause for a moment to look up at it and take the whole structure in. She looked first at the wizard, his wand pointing straight to the sky, then over to the massive centaur with his bow and arrow, his gaze focused on some unseen target, and then all the way down to the house elf, standing proudly, his hands on his hips and water streaming from his ears.

After several long moments, her father put his hand on her shoulder and directed her toward a desk to their left where a round, middle-aged wizard sat hunched over a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Above, the sign read: SECURITY.

They approached and her father spoke.

"Two visitors on official business with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he said succinctly. "Affairs of Magical Families Office."

"Names?" the wizard asked.

"Severus Snape and…"

Her father looked over at her, inviting her to speak for herself. He didn't notice the astonished look on the security wizard's face, but Zoe saw it for a split second before the man noticed her wrinkled brow and curious expression. He schooled his features into something a bit more professional by the time Zoe's father turned back to him.

"Zoe Snape," she said.

The man gave a nod and pulled from a drawer in his desk a long, thin, golden rod before standing and walking to the side of his desk.

"Er, if you will, Mr. Snape?" He gestured for Zoe's father to approach.

He did so and the man passed the rod up and down her father's front and back. When he was all clear, the security wizard waved Zoe over. She stood a bit tensely as he did the same precautionary passes on her. Then, the man walked back behind his desk and sat once more.

"Is the girl of Hogwarts age?" he asked, looking up to Zoe's father.

"Yes," her father said.

The man gave a curt nod. "Wands," he instructed then, tapping his left hand on the solitary dish of a brass instrument that was similar to the set of scales Zoe's father kept in his potions laboratory at Hogwarts.

Zoe watched as her father allowed his wand to fall from his right sleeve. Just before he placed it onto the scale, however, Zoe moved closer to him and whispered.

"But I thought you weren't ever supposed to turn your wand over to anyone for any reason."

Her father paused and pulled his wand back toward him. He looked down at her.

"You aren't," he said. "However, this is one instance where we have little choice. Without having our wands weighed, we will not make it past the Atrium. Just keep your eyes on it."

"I'm not allowed to touch 'em," the security wizard said then. Apparently, he'd overheard Zoe's question. "I'd be sacked in a blink if I did."

Zoe gave a single nod and watched as her father placed his wand on the scale. It instantly began to vibrate rather violently, but for only a second before a small strip of parchment was spit out at the base of it.

"Thirteen inches, ebony, dragon heartstring core? Correct?"

"Yes," her father said, seemingly bored as he took his wand once more and pocketed it.

The security wizard turned his gaze upon Zoe. She already had her wand in hand, but she looked up to her father for a bit of reassurance. He gave a subtle nod of his head, so Zoe took a step forward and, inhaling and exhaling deeply, she placed her wand upon the scale. Again, it shook vigorously until another, longer strip of parchment zoomed forth. The wizard ripped it off and read it. He wrinkled his brow and spoke with an air of disbelief.

"Twelve and a half inches, African blackwood, with…a duel core of griffin hair _and_ feather?"

Zoe nodded as she snatched her wand from the instrument.

The wizard looked up to her father. "This ain't a play wand of some kind?"

"It most certainly is not," her father stated, irritated, standing a bit taller, imposingly.

Zoe scowled. She was angry too. Her wand wasn't a play wand and she was rather affronted that the man would think so. It was a real one, a great wand. She had half a notion to demonstrate its effectiveness by levitating the man's scales—or turning his hair lavender. Though, she'd probably spend half the next term scrubbing cauldrons for doing so…

After only a moment of staring at her father, however, the man shrugged, though he seemed a bit unsure of himself now. Apparently, he could be swayed by intimidation just as easily as a Hogwarts student could.

"Er, right," he said nervously.

He shuffled the newspaper on his desk a bit before opening another drawer and pulling out two badges. He tapped the badges with his own wand and handed them to Zoe.

"The badges must be worn at all times. You can return them here on your way out."

Zoe nodded and looked down at the badges that had her and her father's names printed on them above the word: VISITOR.

She handed her father his badge and, as they moved away from the security desk, she pushed hers against her robes just over her heart. An embedded charm stuck it there effortlessly. She looked up just in time to see her father pocket his own badge before striding so quickly toward the lifts that Zoe had to lengthen her stride quite a bit in order to keep up with him.

When they'd boarded one of the crowded, rickety lifts, Zoe noticed a witch in maroon robes and a pointy, wide-brimmed hat standing beside her father giving him furtive looks out of the side of her eyes. To the witch's left, two wizards in maintenance robes were also eyeing him, whispering so lowly to each other that Zoe couldn't hear what they were saying. By the time they'd reached level two for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the entire lift car seemed to be staring cautiously, but awestruck, at her father.

When Zoe stepped out of the lift by his side, their eyes had grown practically to the size of saucers. She paused to look back at them curiously. They had seemed collectively to stare at her before squinting down at the badge on her chest. Her father noticed this a moment later and he doubled back, snatched her badge from her chest without a word, and pocketed it as well. Zoe opened her mouth to protest, but her father gave a stern shake of his head and she stayed quiet.

"Come along," he said, shooting a glare at the people left in the lift as the doors rattled closed. "I believe it is this way."

Zoe nodded and matched her father's stride as he stalked down a long corridor with doors on either side. Some of them were closed while some were opened, revealing private offices, conference rooms, or wide rooms with dozens of cubicles.

Her father walked briskly, though Zoe didn't think they had an appointment to keep. He paused briefly at every door, reading the plaque indicating to where the door led. Just as they had paused at a door nearly three quarters down the corridor, it opened and a curly-haired witch with a serious expression emerged carrying a stack of papers. She looked up, rather startled by the two people who had stopped briefly in front of her, but she quickly composed herself.

"Pardon me," she said and began to walk in the opposite direction of Zoe and her father until…

"Mr. Snape?"

Zoe's father stopped once more and turned back toward he witch. He seemed to recognize her for he turned fully toward her and walked back holding his hand out.

"Madam Hinkle," he greeted.

The witch pulled her right hand from under the stack of parchment and shook hands then her attention turned almost immediately to Zoe.

"Is this her?" Madam Hinkle asked.

"I did not replace her with a different child after your last inspection," her father said sarcastically.

Madam Hinkle ignored his caustic wit and looked Zoe up and down for a moment.

"Well, look at you," she said to Zoe. "You've grown rather nicely, haven't you? You'll be tall."

Zoe, not knowing what to say, merely shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father turn his face to the heavens for a moment before looking back at her with a scowl.

"Er, yes, Madam," Zoe said a bit shyly to answer the witch's question so as not to annoy her father further with her lack of manners. Unconsciously, she took a small step closer to him.

"You're at Hogwarts now?"

"Yes. I'm a first year."

Madam Hinkle gave a brief snort of amusement. "At least you're talking now. Had your father quite flustered for a while there, didn't you?"

Again, Zoe didn't know what to say to that. She hoped it was a rhetorical question.

Her father cleared his throat.

"Madam Hinkle, could you perhaps direct us to the Office for the Affairs of Magical Families? I seem to have lost it since my last visit."

"You were on the right track the way you were headed," Madam Hinkle said, pointing up the corridor. "It's the second to last door on the left.

Zoe's father gave a curt nod.

"Good day."

"You too. And you, Zoe," she said, looking Zoe right in the eye. Her features held amusement now and a look of…pride, perhaps?

Her and her father turned to continue on their way, when fast-paced footsteps and a shout behind them, had them turning back once again.

"Professor! Professor Snape!"

Zoe's father put a hand on her shoulder and she felt him pushing her behind him as the young wizard approached them, out-of-breath.

"Professor… I've been… instructed— Sorry…" The wizard took several moments to catch his breath, then he began to talk again. "Professor Snape. I'm Bradley Whittle. I've been instructed to redirect you from the AMF Office to my supervisor's office instead where the will of Aldous Constantine is to be officially read for you—among other things."

Zoe looked around her father. The boy in front of her was wearing plain, black robes, but with an emblem etched onto the side. However, the fabric fell in such a way that it was mostly blocked, so Zoe couldn't read what it said. He looked as if he couldn't have been older than nineteen or twenty years old and he looked at Zoe's father with a sort of feigned courage as if he wanted to appear brave and controlled, but was failing miserably.

Her father didn't help the younger wizard's nerves when he merely raised an eyebrow.

"And who, may I ask, is your supervisor?"

The Ministry wizard bit his lip. "Er, I'm not authorized to tell you any more than I already have."

"Really? How convenient."

"Please, come this way," Bradley Whittle said awkwardly, walking back the way they'd come.

Zoe's father gave a low growl, but followed with Zoe keeping up just behind him.

Whittle took them back out to where the lifts were and then turned right, pushing open a set of large, oak doors and holding them open so that Zoe and her father could pass through as well. They entered into a large room with a few rows of even cubicles where everyone seemed to be exceptionally busy. However, by the time the Snapes had walked past only a quarter of the cubicles, the room seemed to grow quiet. Zoe looked around and noticed that, once again, they were being watched.

"Papa…"

"What is it?" he asked gruffly.

"They're staring at us," Zoe said quietly.

Continuing to follow Whittle, her father turned his head. Almost immediately, everyone went back to their respective tasks and the place was bustling once more. Zoe wrinkled her brow, completely confused. However, her father didn't comment on it.

Soon, Whittle slowed and stopped at a plain door with no distinguishing plaques indicating what was housed within. However, once the wizard had opened the door and ushered them in, Zoe saw that it was a large, but rather cluttered office. Stacks of parchments sat upon the desk as well as a long table to her left. The walls directly in front of her and to her right were covered in bookshelves upon which books and various large binders were stored.

Whittle held his hand out toward the chairs in front of the desk.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable. Someone should be with you soon."

And then he left before either Zoe or her father could ask any questions.

* * *

><p>To say that Severus was annoyed was beyond an understatement. The letter he'd received had specifically stated that they were to present themselves at the Affairs of Magical Families Office at their earliest convenience and now, they'd been redirected to Merlin knew where within the Ministry. And the cubicle workers had been staring at them, confusing Zoe, and aggravating him. Why was it so bloody difficult for people to mind their own business?<p>

He took a fortifying breath—he had a suspicion that whoever this supervisor was, he'd need calm and rational thinking to make it through the meeting. And Zoe may need his support. He had no idea what to expect from Aldous's will and, frankly, he was just as curious as his daughter was to know the reason they'd been included at all.

Standing just inside the closed door that Bradley Whittle had vacated moments before, Severus looked to his right to see Zoe lifting the corner of a piece of parchment to glimpse the diagram beneath it. Those pages were just two on an entire pile of parchment situated on a low filing cabinet next to the door.

He flicked his daughter's shoulder and eyed her sternly.

"Don't be nosey," he reprimanded.

Zoe glared at him as she rubbed her shoulder. "I wasn't being nosey," she defended. "Just curious."

Severus rolled his eyes, striding around a chair to take a seat in front of the desk. "Apparently, I need to invest in a thesaurus. Perhaps we'll pick one up in London before going home."

That earned him an even sourer glare from his daughter as she decided to sit down in the chair beside him. They were quiet no longer than three minutes when his daughter broke the silence.

"How long do you think we'll have to wait?"

"It's the Ministry. We could very well wait all day."

Zoe sighed heavily at that and slouched moodily. Severus tapped the wooden arm of her chair with his fingers, indicating that he wanted her to sit properly. Zoe, knowing his expectations, complied.

"Papa, how did that witch in the corridor know my name?"

Severus turned to look at her.

"That was Ramona Hinkle. She was our caseworker with the Affairs of Magical Families Office a few months after you were born. She brought you to me after your mother died and looked in on us from time to time for the following two years or so."

"Oh," Zoe said, looking down at the arm of her chair and beginning to pick at the wood. "She seemed…surprised…that I seemed all right."

Severus snorted at his daughter's observation with no real amusement.

"Yes, she did, didn't she? That tends to be the stereotype: that a single man could not possibly raise a child on his own. I believe she was a bit shocked that you'd managed to make it to eleven."

"That isn't a very nice thing to think," said Zoe, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Severus inclined his head.

"Perhaps not, but I doubt the stigma is without its examples."

Zoe merely nodded, somewhat disinterestedly.

"Who do you suppose wants to see us?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Severus turned once more from the charmed windows he'd been gazing at to look to her. He shook his head.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, what do you suppose they want? Other than reading Mr. Constantine's will, I mean."

"Zoe, please," Severus said impatiently. "You are no less informed than I."

Zoe sat back in her chair again and was silent for only a moment when…

"There are photographs on the desk," she said, rising quickly from her chair. "Maybe I can find out whose office this is."

Severus reached out to try to grab his daughter's robes, but wasn't fast enough as she quickly made her way around the desk.

"Zoe," he scolded. "Sit down and be still before I—"

"Hello."

Zoe hadn't quite made it far enough to see within the frames sitting on the desk before the recognizable voice was heard behind Severus. He stood upright and closed his eyes briefly to steel himself for the impending conversation. When he'd opened them again, he turned to address the younger wizard and, surprisingly, the Minister for Magic.

"Potter, I should have known that you would be the one to hold us hostage within the Ministry with such cryptic assurances. Minister," he finished off addressing the Minister.

"Severus," Kingsley Shacklebolt acknowledged as he strode purposefully into the office.

Severus turned back slightly to level his daughter with a stern look as he jerked his head toward her vacant chair. She obeyed his silent command, looking between her father and the other two wizards curiously.

"I'm sorry about that," Harry Potter said, fully entering the office and closing the door behind him. He made his way behind the desk. "When we heard you were in the building, there was a bit of a scramble to keep you here until the Minister and I could legitimately exit the tactical meeting we were in."

"You're the Minister for Magic?" Zoe asked suddenly, looking up in wonderment at the tall, dark-skinned man who smiled down at Severus's daughter, ignoring the professor's reprimanding cleared-throat.

"I am. Kingsley Shacklebolt, at your service."

The wizard held his hand down to Zoe to shake. She did so and looked to her father excitedly, briefly, before turning back to the Minister.

"Mr. Shacklebolt—"

"_Minister_," Severus corrected. Zoe looked sheepish for a moment, but continued.

"Sorry. Minister Shacklebolt, is it true that you wear an earring?"

"_Zoe_," Severus reprimanded.

"What?" Zoe asked. "John told me he did. I was just—"

"Curious. Yes, I know," Severus said, rolling his eyes.

The Minister merely let out a hearty chuckle at the exchange before looking on the girl with a fond look.

"I do, indeed. When I am not at the office, that is."

"Wicked," Zoe said, grinning.

Severus reached over and put a hand on his daughter's knee when it was apparent that she was going to ask another question. She turned to look at him and, understanding his silent request that she be quiet now, she sat fully back in her chair to observe the conversation.

"We were requested here for the reading of a will," he stated, looking at Potter across the desk. "Yet, I have been given the impression with the presence of the Minister that there is something more imperative to be discussed?"

"Yes," Potter said, but didn't immediately elaborate.

Instead, he pulled from a pocket of his robes a scroll and took his time unrolling it, though it wasn't a very long scroll. Clearing his throat, he read aloud.

"_I, Aldous Constantine, upon the time of my death, do hereby bequeath my professional estate—the apothecary, its profits, and all supplies, tools, and potions within—to Severus Snape, Potions Master and Professor of Defense at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as to his sole heir, Zoe Snape_."

Potter paused then and looked up at him, apparently waiting for some sort of reaction. When none was given, he continued.

"_Additionally, I wish to leave all my personal possessions and property at 55 Ravenscourt Road, Hammersmith, London, to the aforementioned persons to utilize or sell as they see fit_."

He laid the scroll down and set Severus with a curious and appraising stare. Severus merely arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for the Head Auror's obvious question.

"As a notable and, frankly, rather wealthy apothecary owner in Diagon Alley and of no apparent relation to you, we were wondering, Professor, if you could tell us why Aldous Constantine chose to include you and your daughter in his will?"

Severus, perturbed by Potter's tone and obvious assumption that something was odd here, crossed his arms over his chest and chose to address the younger wizard with a question of his own.

"Am I being accused of something?" he asked, glaring at Potter, then up to Shacklebolt.

Potter looked down at the scroll then and shook his head. "Not at all. It's merely a curiosity."

"A curiosity to the Ministry or just to you?" Severus responded curtly.

Potter locked eyes with him. "Anything that is curious to me, is curious to the Ministry."

The two men spent several moments merely glaring at each other, years of unsaid words and buried emotions threatening to rise to the surface. However, the Minister stepped in then.

"Severus, there are no accusations here. We would not address it in this manner if there were and we most certainly would not do so in front of your child. But you must admit that the situation is peculiar. Is there any information you may be able to give us regarding your relationship with Aldous Constantine, anything that would allow us to…sate our curiosities regarding his will?"

Severus pulled his gaze away from Potter then, to look to Shacklebolt. He shook his head.

"I've been a regular customer of Constantine's for nearly three decades—since before the fall—"

He paused and looked over to Zoe who was watching and listening to this whole conversation raptly. He took a deep breath.

"Since before the war. When he returned to Britain at the end of it all, I resumed my business with him. In addition, since she was young, Zoe has accompanied me when I've gone to acquire supplies. Aside from Constantine's proclivity for giving my daughter too many sweets, our relationship was almost completely professional. I considered him a valued colleague and confidant in regards to my potions business. Nothing more."

"That still answers nothing of why you and Zoe are the sole beneficiaries in his will," Potter said lowly.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"I haven't the faintest clue what you wish to hear, Potter," he spat, growing irritated. "Aldous had no family to speak of. His wife died years before your own birth and he had no children. Any reasons I have for being in his will is merely speculation into his motives, for he has never said anything to me regarding this matter. I can only imagine that I was a favored client whom he felt would benefit from his expansive stores and wealth. That is all."

Again, Potter stared. Severus knew the Auror was trying to assess his truthfulness, so he made sure to look the younger wizard fully in the eye. Not that Severus was too concerned with what Potter thought. He had nothing to hide and had done nothing criminal and, frankly, he had long since taken offense to this line of questioning. If Zoe hadn't been sitting right next to him, he would have stalked from the room after giving Potter and the Minister a rather thorough tongue-lashing.

"How did Mr. Constantine die?"

It was that question that forced both Severus and Potter to look away from each other and over to Zoe. Her cheeks flushed at suddenly having all the attention on her after an intense exchange between the adults.

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but quickly realized that he didn't have an answer for her. He found his eyes drifting up to Shacklebolt's face and saw the Minister exchange a morose look with Potter. Severus frowned just as Potter cleared his throat.

"Er, Professor? Would it be all right if Zoe waited outside with one of my Aurors? We'd like to discuss a few things with you alone."

Severus's eyes narrowed.

"She asked a simple question, Potter. A question that I, myself, would like to know the answer to."

"The question was simple, yes, but the answer is…a bit more complicated," Potter said quietly, staring down at his desk. He looked up to Severus again. "As a parent, I only assumed you'd want to discuss something like this with your daughter in the privacy of your own home where she would be comfortable and in a familiar setting."

"You know what they say about _assuming_…" Severus said scathingly, looking for any reason to put Potter in his place, even if it was a petty one.

He gave a sidelong glance at his daughter, however. Her brow was wrinkled in confusion and curiosity, but he could tell by her expression that she knew something was unusual here, that she was bracing herself for the worst. And, as perturbed as Severus was with Potter for assuming anything, for essentially trying to tell him how to parent his child, he couldn't deny what the other wizard had said. This was obviously not going to be good news and he'd prefer to hear it and then decide whether it was suitable for Zoe.

"She'll be unequivocally secure outside this office?" he asked Potter and looked to the Minister as well, just for good measure.

Potter gave a single nod. "She'll be surrounded by the best the Ministry has to offer."

"Forgive me if I feign any complete confidence in the best the Ministry has to offer," Severus said dryly as he turned to Zoe who was shaking her head adamantly. Severus arched an eyebrow at her.

"Please don't make me leave the room," she pleaded. "I want to hear what happened to Mr. Constantine."

"You will be informed by me later if I deem it appropriate to share with you," Severus said, trying to keep any aggravation he was feeling out of his tone.

When Zoe didn't budge but continued to stare at Severus with conviction, he stood and took her left arm, pulling her up from her chair to stand in front of him.

"Please, wait outside," he commanded as softly as he could while still conveying to his daughter that arguing this matter was not only futile but would not be tolerated.

Zoe's eyes suddenly turned from her defiant, sky blue to the melancholy green that Severus hated to see. He knew his daughter wanted to stay and fight with him, to plead her case to stay, but she knew she would lose that battle. Severus felt the sudden urge to embrace her in reassurance, but he wouldn't here and Zoe also knew that.

Her eyes conveyed a hint of longing and betrayal, and she turned in an instant and walked away from him toward the door that Potter had opened.

He had summoned one of his female Aurors over. There was a quick exchange of introductions and then the door was closed and Severus was left alone in the office with Potter and Shacklebolt.

Potter walked back around to his desk and sat down as Severus resumed his own seat. Shacklebolt walked over and took the chair that Zoe had just vacated. Potter took a long, deep breath and looked Severus directly in the eyes.

"Aldous Constantine was murdered, Professor. The Killing Curse."

Severus's eyes shifted from Potter to the Minister, who nodded solemnly.

_I suppose that explains the inquisition_, he thought.

"He was found in the back room of his apothecary," Shacklebolt said. "There didn't appear to be any struggle. A customer in the shop witnessed a man in a brown, hooded cloak enter, but said that his face was concealed by the hood. Constantine apparently seemed wary, but was cordial. The witness stated that the cloaked man said nothing while he was in the apothecary, but moved toward the counter as soon as he exited."

"You have no idea the identity of this cloaked figure?" Severus asked, looking back to Potter.

"No. There's very little to go on. Nobody saw the man enter the apothecary aside from Constantine and the client already within the shop; nobody saw him leave. He most likely disapparated directly out after killing its proprietor."

Severus gave a subtle nod, thinking deeply about what he'd just heard. Constantine was a gentle man, a brilliant man; Severus couldn't imagine he'd have many enemies. He'd fled to America during the Dark Lord's second reign for the same reasons that had pushed Horace Slughorn into hiding—to evade recruitment by the Death Eaters who aimed to take advantage of his expertise in potions.

Severus certainly understood that. He'd watered down plenty of poisons and covertly administered more than his share of antidotes while in the employ of the Dark Lord. But he didn't know how such an evasion would have come around now to haunt Aldous Constantine.

And what did any of this have to do with him and Zoe? Why was the Minister for Magic and the Head Auror informing him of any of this? Surely, this was what would be considered classified information…

Potter had approached him at Malfoy Manor just days before, however. He'd said that the Minister had asked for his assistance or advice regarding the supposedly former Death Eaters that had been released from Azkaban. And with what he'd been reading in the _Daily Prophet_ of late about increased threats to public places, Muggle-baiting, and civilian reports of Dark revels—which the Ministry had conveniently failed to obtain sufficient evidence of or apprehend anyone connected—they did seem to have their hands full.

Severus supposed it _was_ safe to assume that they thought him to have some insight they didn't. Unfortunately, he couldn't say that he did. Aside from his brief encounter with Yaxley in Diagon Alley seven years previous, he hadn't interacted with Death Eaters in nearly twenty years now.

But he had still been in the thick of things all those years ago—one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers…

He looked up to Potter once more, suddenly realizing why he was here and seeing the connection between Constantine's murder and Potter's desire for information from Severus. _He_ was the connection.

"Do you believe Constantine's murder to be linked to the Death Eater activity you spoke of on Christmas Eve as well as the incidents reported in the _Prophet_? With the slaying of your Auror?" Severus asked.

Potter nodded. "We're sure it is. These kinds of murders, the rumors… We've seen and heard them all before. A darkness is upon us again, Professor, whether we want to believe it or not."

Severus arched an eyebrow at Potter's dramatic statement, but didn't comment on it. He sat pensively for a moment and then spoke again.

"Aldous was a trusting man. He would have filed his will with the Ministry Office of Magical Family Affairs rather than a personal solicitor. It would not have been sealed, but public record, which is most likely why I was notified almost immediately upon the public pronouncement of his death at nearly three in the morning."

Potter leaned forward, interested in Severus's line of thinking.

"If it is these Death Eaters that are to blame," Potter said, "it is quite obvious that Constantine was merely collateral damage in their quest to obtain information and get to someone else."

"Who?" Shacklebolt asked looking between his Head Auror and Severus.

"Come now, Minister, surely you can still think like an Auror after all these years?" Severus said dryly.

"You."

Potter was the one to voice the word and he stared directly at Severus.

Severus inclined his head in the affirmative.

"It's common knowledge that those imprisoned for crimes committed during the war believe me to be the reason they were put there. I was a traitor to the cause, Dumbledore's spy, aided and abetted The Chosen One in order to thwart their Lord. And it was no secret that Aldous Constantine and I were close colleagues. If someone discovered his will, they may have gotten the impression that we were closer and felt that, through him, they would have a way to me."

Potter nodded again, his expression serious. "I've already discussed with Professor McGonagall the need for extra security at Hogwarts for the next term," he said. "In addition, I'd like to assign two Aurors to your home around the clock."

Severus shook his head. "I am more than capable of protecting my own home."

"This isn't an affront to your abilities, Severus," Shacklebolt stated. "It's merely a precaution. We don't know what Constantine told his killer. He could have revealed your whereabouts. Without the use of a Fidelius Charm, you are vulnerable even with the best wards. I believe you are right to say that you are a target and you should have extra security."

"No. It will only draw more attention to my home to have it so blatantly magically fortressed within a Muggle community—especially using Ministry-sanctioned protective charms cast by Aurors. It's best to allow me to reinforce my own wards as I've always done and proceed as if nothing is afoot."

"You have to think of Zoe," Potter said.

Severus turned his steely gaze upon the Auror, his eyes burning with sudden anger.

"It is for her safety alone that I make my decision," he said, making that abundantly clear. "We have no evidence that Constantine's killer knows the location of my home or is even targeting it. It is merely our own speculation. Even if we were sure, there is no doubt that a Muggle community is the last place they will think to look. And, with the wards I already have in place and the many more I intend to establish, I find no reason for added security from the Ministry."

"Of course, we can't make you use our services—" Potter began.

"Indeed," Severus said, cutting Potter off and conveying that the discussion of this matter was closed.

Potter gave a heavy sigh and looked to Shacklebolt, who shrugged, knowing there was little he could say that would convince Severus otherwise.

"While we're on the subject of Death Eaters," Severus spoke up then. "Answer me this, Potter: why was I not informed that Cyrus Yaxley had sired children prior to my return to Hogwarts?"

Again, Potter and Shacklebolt exchanged a weighted look. Potter took a deep breath and entwined his fingers on the top of his desk.

"Frankly, Professor, you were informed the same week that Minerva and I as well as the Minister here were all informed. Ministry officials only became aware of it about a week before term began at Hogwarts."

"How is that possible? According to you, the Ministry has 'the best there is to offer'. How is it that two children of a dangerous Dark wizard seemed to fly so completely under the radar?"

Potter shook his head. "During the war, Yaxley seemed to have done a very good job of covering his tracks. Which was easy enough, I suppose, considering the Minister for Magic was under the Imperius Curse and most of his deputies were Death Eaters. We discovered his children when Yaxley's MLE tail spotted him entering a townhouse in London; a young girl opened the door—the elder daughter, we believe. An investigation was conducted immediately and it was discovered that Yaxley had a long-time mistress starting years before Tom Riddle's resurrection in the graveyard. She's an American witch living in London named Cordelia Aaron."

"Of the Boston Aarons?" Severus asked.

"You know them?" Shacklebolt inquired curiously.

"I know of them," Severus replied. "They are the second wealthiest wizarding family in the United States. I briefly met Conrad Aaron at a potions conference in Paris several years ago. He's a brilliant Potions Master. Perhaps the best outside of Europe. Constantine raved about him after his return from America."

"He'd be an uncle of Cordelia," Potter said offhand.

Severus nodded. "I don't believe them to be affiliated with any Dark movements," he stated.

Potter shook his head. "Our research seems to point to Cordelia Aaron being a bit of a black sheep in the family. Not necessarily a pureblood supremacist, but willing to follow a crowd if she feels she can benefit greatly. The Yaxleys have immense wealth, much more so than the Aarons who are mired with debts that seem to pass from generation to generation."

"Anyway," the Auror continued after a pause. "After Yaxley's wife was killed in the war, leaving him childless, he established some sort of contract with his mistress, Cordelia, where in the event that he should be imprisoned for a long period of time or killed, she would continue his family line and give him an heir, thus binding the Yaxleys and the Aarons both financially and in blood."

"How could he possibly do that from prison?" Severus asked. "It was made very apparent to me that conjugal visits were not established for imprisoned Death Eaters. So, if that truly were the case, the timelines would not add up regarding the birth of the elder Aaron girl, for Yaxley was released from Azkaban mere weeks before Zoe was...conceived."

The Minister and Potter seemed to ignore Severus's suddenly uncomfortable demeanor. He hadn't meant to reveal such a personal detail.

"Ah, see, that's where things get rather intriguing," said Shacklebolt. "They used a _Muggle_ technology to conceive her. Yaxley had his sperm frozen, preserving it for the opportune time."

"We believe that after Yaxley had spent several years in prison, he got word to Cordelia to have herself impregnated using something called artificial insemination," Potter continued. "She did so, thus producing—"

"Celeste Aaron," Severus finished, nodding. He'd heard of the procedure and knew it to be rather popular among Muggles who had difficulty producing children.

Potter nodded as well. "Then the mass Death Eater releases came down through the Ministry a couple years later and Yaxley was one of those released. We believe Cecilia Aaron was conceived naturally shortly thereafter. A few years after that, a boy was born as well—Cassius. That child was stillborn, however."

"_Supposedly_," Shacklebolt said under his breath.

Severus raised his eyebrows and looked from the Minister for Magic to Potter and back again. "_Supposedly_ stillborn?"

Potter closed his eyes then as if steeling himself. He seemed almost disgusted by his knowledge.

"Well, we can't _prove_ anything, but many on the investigation believe the child didn't pass the 'test' and was killed days after his after birth for being a Squib."

Severus tried to keep his expression as impassive as possible, as he looked between the two wizards. "You believe they performed the _Expertus Magus_? Even the most staunchly conservative pureblooded families ceased its practice over sixty years ago once it was proven to be detrimental to the overall magical cores of their children. In fact, Lucius Malfoy was the first and last pureblood I've known to have had it performed on them as an infant."

Potter nodded solemnly. "Despite the Ministry categorizing it as Dark Magic, it's technically still legal and some—several on the Wizengamot, namely—would say it's a viable way to prove a child's magical ability without waiting for occurrences of accidental magic. As you say, it's really only pureblooded families that know of it and only a powerful group of wizards and witches would be able to perform it—typically family members, but that wouldn't be required."

Potter set Severus with a very serious look then. "Which is why we believe Yaxley's been recruiting ever since he was released from Azkaban. He would have needed at least a dozen discreet friends willing to perform such a Dark ceremony."

"And the Ministry has given him plenty of those over the years, haven't they, Potter?" Severus said scathingly.

Potter merely shook his head at his former professor's accusation and sighed heavily. He looked to Shacklebolt, clearly tired of defending himself on this issue.

"This was not in Harry's hands, Severus," he stated. "Nor mine, for that matter. We did everything in our power to stop the releases, but the Wizengamot thought many of the witches and wizards there had been rehabilitated or had served their time. And they feared for the extinction of many pureblooded, magical lines."

"Few pureblooded magical lines are as pure as they boast," Severus said.

"We're aware," said Potter. "But that was the thinking nonetheless."

The three sat in silence for two or three minutes after that, wrapped in their own thoughts. Finally, Severus stood.

"Well, if that is all…"

Potter stood as well. "It's not. We'd like your input, Professor. As much as I've studied Death Eaters throughout my career, fought them, I can't get into their heads. It's impossible for me to try to understand their motivations, especially in light of the fact that their leader has been dead for two decades."

Severus arched an eyebrow at his former student. "Something The Chosen One can't do? How peculiar…"

Potter's jaw tightened in obvious agitation and his gaze was steely.

"I kindly ask that you do not refer to me that way," he said lowly.

He and Severus stared each other down then, but Severus eventually conceded. He shrugged and looked away, but did not comment on Potter's request. He began to move toward the door.

"I'd appreciate the pertinent details of Constantine's estate being sent to me at the Ministry's earliest convenience."

"I'll put someone on it right away," Shacklebolt said.

Severus gave a curt nod. "In regards to my input on the other matter we discussed today, I ask that you send along any questions you may have by secure owl. Send it directly to me through a Floo channel, if you must, and—"

"Professor, we'd greatly appreciate you staying to discuss this," Potter said, unable to keep the aggravation entirely out of his tone now.

"If you had asked me here to discuss this alone, perhaps I would have made arrangements to accommodate you. As it is, I have been forced into this meeting under the guise of the reading of a will and I have been asked to leave my child outside where I am quite certain she has been waiting none too patiently. Therefore, Potter, you shall have to deal with the terms I have put forth, or continue to flounder on your own."

Potter looked displeased, but Severus knew he couldn't dispute what had been said. Eventually, the Auror looked to the Minister for Magic, exchanging a look, before turning his green eyes on Severus once more.

"All right. I'll have the team put together a brief for you including specific questions we have. Look it over as soon as you can and I'll be in touch. I only ask that you try to make it a priority. The safety of our world is once again in the balance."

"My first priority is _always_ my child," Severus stated. "And there's no need to remind me of the precariousness of the safety of our world."

Potter nodded and Severus turned away, opening the door of the office. Before he could step out, however, Potter spoke again behind him.

"And Professor, it's likely that Zoe is about to be fully exposed as your daughter. A lot of people saw you together in the Ministry. If the _Prophet_ doesn't already have someone working on an article for the morning paper, they will soon."

Severus inclined his head as he stepped out of the office, inwardly cursing his decision to bring Zoe with him today. What had he been thinking?

Of course, he'd never hidden her away from the world by any means, but he'd also been very careful of whom he deliberately exposed her to. He couldn't deny, either, that even after so many years, he was still instantly recognizable. And people would naturally be curious who the young girl with him was and someone would investigate. He'd been foolish to believe that they'd be overlooked among the crowd while in the Ministry.

As he looked out on the rows of cubicles, he didn't immediately see his daughter and a sudden flutter of panic gripped him before someone touched his arm. He looked down quickly to see Zoe at his side having apparently come from a chair just outside Potter's office door.

"I thought you were with an Auror?" he asked, a bit harsher than he intended.

"Arabella," Zoe said, pointing in front of her toward the Auror Severus had seen a few minutes before who was sitting in the nearest cubicle. "Don't worry. She was watching me, but she has to work too."

"Indeed," Severus said. He walked forward and addressed the young witch. "Thank you, Miss…"

"Fleming, Professor. Arabella Fleming. And not at all. Zoe's delightful to talk with and very well-behaved."

Severus gave a nod then and steered his daughter toward the lifts. He wanted nothing more than to be away from the Ministry and standing above a simmering cauldron; he needed to organize his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Her father had refused to tell her anything of what he, Mr. Potter, and Minister Shacklebolt had discussed after she had been asked to leave the room.<p>

"That is none of your concern," he had said sternly to her after she had asked him twice in the lift. "If it was meant for you to be privy to such information, you would have been included in the conversation."

She hadn't liked that answer. However, she figured she could make headway with a different question she had on her mind.

"How come you never told me you know the Minister for Magic?" Zoe asked as she and her father walked across the Atrium on the way back to the Floo channels.

"What makes you think that I know him?"

"Because he called you by your first name. Even Mr. Potter doesn't do that. I've only ever heard Minerva and Professor Lupin call you that. So, how come you never told me that you know him?"

"You never asked," her father said simply. Zoe frowned at his obvious dodge of the question.

"How do you know him?" she asked, running forward a little to get in front of her father. She started walking backward, keeping up with his quick pace so that she could face him and speak to him at the same time.

"We were…colleagues…once."

"When?" Zoe pressed curiously, as she looked behind her and had to dodge quickly out of the way of a newspaper stand. She looked back up to her father.

"A long time ago," he said dismissively.

"_When_?"

Her father reached forward and grabbed her arm, turning her to face the same way he was to keep her from running into a group of Ministry wizards talking near the fountain. They continued to walk.

"Long enough ago that it's hardly worth discussing."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Zoe stopped dead in her tracks and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring, as her father continued with the flow of the other witches and wizards heading toward the fireplaces. She hated when he said that. Why couldn't he just answer her questions? After all, she was only curious as to how her father, of all people, was on a first-name basis with the most politically powerful wizard in Britain. Anybody would be.

Her father took only a few steps before he realized Zoe had fallen behind. He turned to look back at her and, seeing her body language and angry expression, stalked back to her purposefully.

"Don't you dare start with your attitude," he scolded in a low voice. "This is hardly the time or the place and I am in no mood to deal with it. Persist and you'll be copying potions ingredients from the moment we arrive home until dinner."

Zoe allowed her arms to fall to her sides, but she balled her hands into fists.

"I _hate_ _it_ when you say that," she grumbled.

"Then don't ask so many questions," her father spat. Zoe saw him close his eyes an instant later. He always did that when he spoke too quickly, said something he didn't really mean, but she didn't care. Obviously, he wasn't going to tell her anything.

"_Fine_. I'll never ask you a single question _ever_ again."

She pushed past her father then and continued toward their destination. He caught up to her a moment later and latched his hand around her arm again merely to keep her with him in the crowd.

"Such dramatics," he drawled, obviously indifferent to her upset.

Eventually, they fell into a queue at the appropriate Floo channel. Zoe shrugged out of her father's grasp, but stood beside him with her arms crossed again as they made their way toward the fireplace.

Once they had landed in their own sitting room, Zoe bolted toward the kitchen before her father could even siphon the soot from her robes. She walked through the back door and out into the chill, late-December air, the cold stinging her face and hands instantly. She crossed the tiny, snow-covered garden and entered into the conservatory, slamming the door closed behind her.

The humidity inside was such a drastic change to the outside weather, but Zoe barely noticed. Her frustration with her father had taken over so much of her mind that nothing else seemed to register. She crossed to the main bench holding the vast majority of the plant beds and kicked the leg of it—not enough to hurt herself, but just enough to let out some ire through the physicality. She then stalked to the far side of the conservatory and, grabbing a stool, she sat down next to another workbench, making sure that she was mostly concealed behind one of the colocasia plants.

Zoe didn't know how long she sat there. Only a few minutes, probably. She heard when the door to the conservatory opened and then closed, but she didn't acknowledge her father as he searched the magically-enlarged greenhouse for her. Eventually, he pushed the elephant ear-like leaves aside and stared at her.

Zoe glanced up at him briefly, but continued digging a fingernail into the wood of the workbench in front of her.

"Are you going to ignore my presence?"

Zoe wanted to say something sassy back, but settled for a shrug instead. Her father walked away then, but he came back a moment later with his own stool and sat beside her. After several more minutes of silence, he reached out and grabbed the edge of her stool, turning it so that he could more effectively speak with her.

"I know that you are frustrated," he said softly. "I understand that you feel left in the dark but—"

"What's going on?" Zoe asked, looking straight into her father's eyes. "What did Mr. Potter mean when he said that a darkness is coming again?"

Her father arched an eyebrow at her. "You were eavesdropping?"

"A little…" Zoe confessed. "But I couldn't hear most of what you talked about. Just bits of it. Then Arabella cast a silencing charm on the door when she saw me trying."

Her father looked on her with a disapproving expression. He shook his head.

"The eavesdropping needs to stop," he stated.

"You won't tell me _anything_," Zoe complained. "I know something is going on."

"Zoe, nothing is 'going on'."

"Then why are you having meetings with Mr. Potter and the Minister for Magic?"

Her father let out an exasperated breath and rubbed a hand down his face.

"Let me rephrase. There is nothing going on that is any of your concern," he said lowly.

Zoe frowned, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked down, but she didn't say anything. She figured her thoughts on the matter were conveyed perfectly in that body language. She heard her father sigh heavily.

"I imagine that through various conversations amongst your classmates you have already surmised that I played a role in the war many years ago."

Zoe looked up at her father with wide eyes. She nodded.

"Minister Shacklebolt and I…fought together." There was an odd look on her father's face; it was a distant expression. He shook it away and stood abruptly. "As I said, it was many years ago."

Her father turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Zoe said, standing herself. Her father turned back to look at her. "That's all? What was your role? What about the meeting today? What did they say about Mr. Constantine?"

Her father stared at her for several long moments until eventually he turned away from her without a word and exited the conservatory. As soon as he was gone, Zoe turned to the workbench and kicked the leg again. This time, she hurt her foot a little.

* * *

><p>That night, Zoe and her father didn't speak at all during dinner. Her father seemed very preoccupied and Zoe was too angry with his silence to say anything either.<p>

After dinner, her father had retired to his study and Zoe had followed him, hoping her presence would aggravate him. He'd spent most of the afternoon in the cellar brewing a potion with the wards surrounding the door so that Zoe couldn't enter. If she hadn't been so angry with him, she would have been saddened that her father wanted to be alone rather than spend time with her.

Therefore, she spread her notes and book for Potions out on the study floor in order to work on her holiday essay. Again, father and daughter hadn't exchanged words except when Zoe asked him if gurdyroot was spelled with a 'Y' or an 'I'. Her father had grunted 'Y' to her and gone back to…whatever it was he was doing at his desk. Every time she looked over at him, it appeared as though he was just staring at papers or into space, oblivious or indifferent to Zoe's ire and confusion.

When the clock struck twenty-one hundred, however, her father wasted no time informing Zoe that it was time for bed.

Zoe packed up her things and set them in a neat pile on the table next to the sofa. Without a word, she began making her way out of the study. But before she went through the door, she spun back around to face her father.

"How did Mr. Constantine die?" she asked.

Her father looked up at her for several moments, then shook his head, and went back to the parchments on his desk.

"Do as I ask, please, Zoe," he said softly.

"But, Papa, I just want to know—"

Her father slammed a hand flat on the top of his desk as his head whipped back around to look at her, his features angry now.

"Go to bed!" he roared.

She stood solidly in place, her own anger and frustration coming to the surface, as she glared at her father. She wanted to know what was going on and if she had to be just as stubborn as he was in order to gain some information, then so be it.

Her father, however, was having none of her obstinacy. He rose from his chair and crossed to her, taking her arm forcefully and walking her out of the study, onto the first floor landing, and toward her bedroom door. He opened the door to the attic and pushed her into the stairwell.

Zoe climbed a few of the steps and turned back to glare at her father again, but he had slammed the door closed before she got a chance. Giving her own low growl of frustration and stomping one of her feet peevishly, Zoe looked down and saw that Ollie had arranged several pairs of her shoes on the steps for Zoe to take up to her room. Zoe grabbed each shoe individually and threw it hard at the attic door, making a loud thud with each collision.

"You never tell me _anything_!" she screamed.

She picked up one of her slippers then and, just as it left her hand, the door swung open and the shoe made contact with her father's chest before falling to the floor at his feet.

Zoe's eyes went wide, knowing that she'd crossed the line with this tantrum.

Her father merely looked down at the slipper for a moment before slowly moving his gaze up to Zoe. He put out his hand and pointed up the stairs.

"_Go_. _To_. _Bed. Now_," he said in his most low, menacing voice.

Zoe stood on the step only until it was obvious that her father wasn't going to do anything about the thrown slipper but was deadly serious about her obedience to go to bed. She turned and stomped her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She changed quickly and threw herself onto her bed, too angry to even cry at the injustice.

* * *

><p>Severus collapsed into the chair behind his desk with a great sigh and rubbed his forehead. Of course he felt guilty for his short fuse and, although Zoe knew far better than to throw objects in her anger, he could hardly blame her for the slipper she'd inadvertently assaulted him with. He'd been incredibly tight-lipped about the Ministry since their return and the silence had only managed to enhance her interest in what had been discussed.<p>

The girl was too damned curious for her own good. He knew, of course, that he was going to need to have a conversation with her before school resumed, especially if Potter's assumption was correct and a _Daily Prophet_ article was in the making. He knew he would need to explain to her about Aldous as well. And, deep down, he knew that every day he grew closer to Zoe finding out the truth about his past, that it was only a matter of time before she discovered what he had been.

Yet, he so desperately wanted to protect her from that knowledge and inevitable heartache. Whether it was that sentiment that stayed his tongue or his insecurity regarding her reaction to it all or his want for time to just think everything through a bit more, he didn't know.

The only thing he was certain of was that the extra wards he'd placed around the house and gardens that afternoon would need constant monitoring for effectiveness. For the first time since the war had ended, Severus yearned for Dumbledore's expertise in protective charms as well as the old wizard's ability to understand a situation from numerous angles.

Resigned to the fact that he would do no clear thinking that night, he rose to make his way to his bedroom. Perhaps a good night's sleep would erase the clouds of worry inhibiting rational thought and he could look on things with a new perspective in the morning.

He snorted then with no amusement. Who was he kidding? How foolish he was to believe that he'd sleep at all.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Expertus Magus roughly translates to "proven magical" in Latin. _**

**_A/N take two: I know things are starting to get a bit thick now. If anyone has any questions, if you're confused about anything, feel free to shoot me a PM. However, I will reveal no spoilers. _**

**_Also, please review!_**


	24. A Glimpse of Past Climates: Part I

_**Hello! First and foremost, I want to thank everyone who has been reading, reviewing, and favoriting this story. I get all warm and fuzzy inside when I see how many people have stumbled upon my little story-and from all over the world, too! It's even better when I read all your kind words and learn that you like it, you really like it. ;) Anyway, without, further ado, chapter 24. **_

_**And you beat me this time, 1066AndAllThat, but the race for the next chapter is on!**_

* * *

><p><strong>A Glimpse of Past Climates: Part I<strong>

Zoe awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to a loud whooshing sound followed closely by something briefly illuminating her bedroom with a blinding glow. Groggy and slightly disoriented, she looked up to the solitary window, rubbing sleep from her eyes. There was a flicker of light coming from outside that was playing on the glass and trim.

Curious, she sat up and quickly snatched her wand from beneath her pillow. Slowly, she rose to her feet, walked toward the window, and looked out. When the back garden came fully into view, she gasped, her eyes wide.

The lone sugar maple opposite the conservatory was on fire, the heat clearly melting the snow beneath it, as the flames spit up into the dark, cloudy, night sky.

Zoe turned quickly to make her way downstairs with the aim of waking her father to tell him about the tree in the garden. Though she was still quite irritated with him she had to say something, for the fire needed to be put out. Inwardly, however, she told herself that if she had already learned the proper spell to extinguish a fire, she would have done it from her window without having to face her father at all.

She wondered, briefly, as she started her descent of the stairs, how such an occurrence—the fire—could have happened. Lightning, perhaps?

She halted midway down, however, when she heard an eerie clunk and creaking above her. It sounded like footsteps crossing on the roof. Suddenly spooked, she fled quickly down the stairs and onto the first floor, tripping over the small pile of shoes at the base of the stairwell.

She regained her balance on the landing and turned to her left toward her father's bedroom door. However, just before she could open it to call to him, it swung inward, and her father came rushing out in his nightshirt and a pair of trousers. He had his own wand in hand which he waved toward his feet, non-verbally lacing his boots.

He froze, startled, when he saw Zoe through the darkness, but made his way toward the stairs after a moment.

"Stay inside this house," he commanded her as he descended.

Zoe halted where she was, biting her lip, confused and curious at the same time. Her father had seemed very serious in his demand…but he hadn't said she couldn't follow him to the ground floor. So, cautiously, she went down the stairs. However, when she entered the sitting room, it was empty. As was the kitchen.

So, Zoe ran to the back door and looked out the window but, aside from the still-burning tree, she saw nothing. Therefore, she jogged quickly from window to window on the ground floor trying to see from whatever vantage point around the house that she could. Was there something going on outside?

Of course, she could only assume that her father had made his way outdoors, for she hadn't seen him leave, but he was nowhere in sight within the house.

Just as she had crawled up onto the kitchen counter in order to look out the window over the sink, she heard a masculine scream and a pounding on the roof of the house. A moment later, she saw a heavy form—someone—fall to the ground just to the right of the window she had been squinting through. Zoe gave a squeal of horror and clamped her hands over her face.

Breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush caused by her fear, she uncovered her face after several moments and looked out the window again. It was too dark to see anything from where she was so, slowly, she climbed down off the counter and ran to the back door once more.

She reached for the doorknob and hesitated. She knew her father had said to stay in the house, but what if he had been the one to fall from the roof? Though, she didn't know why he'd be up there in the first place… But, what if he was hurt and needed her? She had to know so that she could be there for him.

Thinking no more of the edict he'd given her upstairs and completely forgetting about their disagreement just a few hours ago, Zoe turned the knob and stepped out into the cold, winter night.

Cautiously, she paused on the back step and looked around. Seeing nothing, she stepped barefoot into the snow, heading toward where she knew the body had fallen just ten or twelve feet away. Despite the glow of the burning tree, though, it was still very dark.

"_Lumos_," she whispered to her wand, which illuminated at her command.

Crouching as she came upon the figure crumpled motionless on the ground, she knew immediately that it was not her father, for this wizard was wearing thick black robes and a mask partially obscured his face. And, judging by the angle of his neck, he was unlikely to stir again.

Zoe trembled then, more from fear than from the cold. Who was this man? And why was he here? More importantly, where was her father? She hoped he was all right.

Then, suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. Zoe could feel someone behind her, could sense that she was being watched.

Slowly, cautiously, she stood and turned, letting out a short, but loud, scream of alarm and terror when she saw another cloaked, masked figure behind her, only feet away. She started to back up, looking around for somewhere she could run, when the wizard stepped forward, his wand drawn.

Her eyes went wide, uncertain of what to do, her own wand in her right hand all but forgotten in her fear.

Then, out of nowhere, a translucent, sparkling barrier came down in front of her, effectively blocking the advancement of the cloaked figure. This seemed to only aggravate him, for he shot a number of different spells at it, which only ricocheted or seemed to be absorbed into the shield itself.

A moment later, she heard her father's familiar voice call into the darkness, though she couldn't quite discern from where it had come.

"Ollie!"

Zoe heard the pop of the house elf's apparition from what she thought was above her, but the chill wind whipped up at that moment and the true direction it had come from was lost. She looked back in front of her only to discover that the wizard that had been advancing on her was now gone. She glimpsed the open back door and started to walk toward it. However, her protective barrier seemed to be restricting any movement she made as well.

She startled when Ollie apparated directly in front of her.

"Miss Zoe should be in the house!" she proclaimed rather angrily as she took Zoe's hand and instantly disapparated them both out of the garden.

They landed back in the sitting room where Ollie scolded Zoe for disobeying her father, stating that he should 'box her ears for being so naughty'. Zoe didn't really know what that meant, so she disregarded it. Aside from subjecting them to a lengthy, stern lecture, she doubted her father would do anything to her ears. After several more minutes spent telling her off, however, the house elf took one of Zoe's hands and started to pat and pet the back of it softly, apparently to comfort her.

"Miss Zoe's Papa will be okay. Hims is a good wizard."

Zoe didn't heed any of it, though. She stood stock still in the middle of the sitting room, listening to the clash of spells and shouts that had suddenly erupted all around the outside of the house. She ignored the iciness of her feet and the chill coming through her nightgown giving her gooseflesh as the fight seemed to intensify with each passing moment. For several minutes, she'd been able to hear car alarms going off all over the neighborhood and twice she'd jumped when a spell had clearly collided with the exterior walls of the house. The windows continuously flashed brightly and from time to time, the whole building seemed to shake. It reminded her of particularly active lightning in a thunderstorm or of the enormous Muggle firecrackers that lit up the night sky over the river on New Years Eve.

But Zoe knew far better than to imagine it was those things. Her father was out there fighting in a duel with another wizard, maybe more than one. It was a real duel—one she didn't know if he would win.

She was frightened more than she'd ever been frightened in her whole life. And she felt so helpless.

Who were those masked figures? What did they want? Why would they attack her and her father in the middle of the night? What had they ever done to them?

She thought briefly that perhaps they had gotten the wrong house, but Zoe and her father lived amongst Muggles—they were the only magical people for miles—surely, these men hadn't just happened upon a magical family by accident and decided to attack. That didn't make much sense.

There was also something nagging at her in the back of her mind. Zoe just had a feeling that all this had to have something to do with those witches and wizards that had been released from Azkaban—those Death Eaters. It just had to be, for they were the most evil people Zoe could think of and who else would want to inflict harm and create chaos in the middle of the night for no reason if it wasn't Dark witches and wizards?

Suddenly, things went quiet. Zoe's head swiveled to the window to her left. She'd seen movement just beyond the sheer curtains, but whatever it was had gone now. She continued to stand in the middle of the room, too scared to move, as Ollie continued to stroke the back of her hand.

A moment later, the front door creaked open, causing Zoe to jump, her heart pounding a mile a minute in her chest. A shadowed figure came forward and stood in the doorway, looking into the sitting room. It wasn't until he had lit the end of his wand and limped further into the room did Zoe realize it was her father. He looked beyond exhausted as he put a hand out to the wall to steady himself. His white nightshirt was dirty and torn at the shoulder and he had blood coming from a cut near his right eye.

But he was alive.

Zoe couldn't contain herself. She pulled away from Ollie and ran to him, throwing her arms about him, relieved. However, he grabbed both of her upper arms and instantly pulled her away.

"_What did I say?"_ he asked menacingly, glaring down at her.

"But, Papa, I thought you were—" Zoe began, but cut off when her father shook her, his hands clamped hard around her arms.

"_WHAT DID I SAY?"_ he asked again, shouting, as fury and… some other emotion played in his eyes.

"You said to stay in the house," Zoe said quickly in a small voice.

"Yes, I did. Don't you _ever, EVER_ put yourself in danger like that again!" he roared, shaking her once more. "Do you understand me? Never again!"

"Okay!"

Tears were starting to form in Zoe's eyes and all she wanted was for her father to hold her, to tell her everything was all right now. But he was doing nothing more than screaming at her.

"I've reestablished some of the wards for now, but they will not hold for long," her father said then, seemingly to himself, as he released his hold on Zoe.

She stepped back from him, looking to the floor and rubbing at the soreness he'd created in her arms.

"Ollie, I ask that you go to Hogwarts and inform the Headmistress of the situation here. Tell her I will make contact with her shortly."

"Yes, Mister Severus. Ollie will go right now."

Ollie disapparated away and Zoe looked up to her father, wiping stray tears from her cheeks.

"Go upstairs and pack your rucksack—just enough clothing for two days or so," he instructed as he moved toward one of the windows.

"What?" Zoe asked, bewildered. "Why?"

Her father spun back around to face her, his facial expression severe. "_ZOE_! Damn it! Do as I say! Quickly."

She couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore. They started to stream down her face as she turned to do as she'd been told.

When she returned to the sitting room only a few minutes later, still trying to stem the tears from her eyes, she saw that her father was casting spells out the front window which he had cracked open slightly. When he caught sight of Zoe, he instantly beckoned her to the hearth and took up the Floo powder.

"Where are we going?" she asked tentatively, slinging her bag onto her back.

"Hogwarts."

Zoe didn't question that for she knew that Hogwarts was a safe haven—the safest wizarding establishment in Britain, some said. Plus, Minerva was there and with her father so distracted and irritated, Zoe currently wanted nothing more than to be in the presence of her godmother.

Therefore, she joined her father on the hearth where he held out the jar of Floo powder for her. Zoe took a handful and threw it into the grate, which magically expanded the whole fireplace so that she could comfortably step into it.

"Go directly to Minerva's quarters. I'll be right behind you."

Zoe nodded and stepped into the grate. She spoke her destination and was whisked away instantly in a burst of green flames.

When she stumbled out of the fire in the sitting room of the Head's Suite, Minerva was waiting for her.

Her godmother, obviously having been awoken in the middle of the night as Zoe had, wore a long, tartan dressing gown and slippers. Her hair, normally pulled back into such a severe bun, was loosely plaited and thrown over her shoulder.

Instantly, Zoe dropped her rucksack and ran into her godmother's outstretched arms. She heard the Floo ignite behind her, but didn't acknowledge her father's entrance, content instead to hold onto her godmother forever, sniffling.

"Severus, what's happened?" Minerva asked above Zoe's head. "Ollie was hysterical."

"'We were attacked at Spinner's End, ambushed."

Minerva gasped and Zoe was squeezed tighter.

"You had to duel? You're injured."

"I will live," her father said simply, limping further into the room to lean against an arm of the sofa. "But they managed to destroy the wards. We cannot go back until they are completely reset and significantly strengthened. For now, I ask that you keep Zoe with you. You needn't remain at the castle. In fact, I'd prefer you take her to Budhmoor Firth as soon as she's had some more sleep."

Zoe pulled away from Minerva then and looked to her father.

"What about you? Where are you going?" she asked desperately.

Her father turned his eyes upon her. The anger she'd seen there earlier had vanished. "I must go. There are various things I need to see to."

"No!'' Zoe shouted, disengaging herself from Minerva and running to her father instead to embrace him. She felt him put a hand on the back of her head. At that point, she couldn't keep the floodgates from opening as tears streamed down her face once again. "Don't go, Papa!"

"Zoe—"

"_Don't_ _go_!" Zoe said again emphatically, cutting her father off.

He remained quiet for several minutes. Zoe imagined that he and Minerva were having one of their silent conversations, simply communicating through facial expressions. They did that sometimes when Zoe was present, but they thought she wouldn't understand some deeper meaning to a situation. Zoe was just glad her father hadn't pulled her away from him again, as he had done at home.

Eventually, though, she felt him push away from the sofa to kneel down. She pulled away from him willingly then for he hadn't kneeled down to speak with her in quite some time—a few years, in fact. When she'd been younger, she knew he'd done it to get more on an even level with her in an effort to try to get her to understand something very important. She also knew in her heart that that was his reasoning now, but it was strange because she'd grown tall enough over those years that her father was no longer at her eye level. Now, he was looking up at her.

"Zoe, I must go," he said seriously, leaving little room for argument, though his words were not harsh. "But I promise you, I will not be away longer than a day."

Zoe couldn't help that she started to cry again, her chin and lower lip wavering from the emotion. Her father had just dueled, he'd been in danger, and she hadn't known if he was going to live or die. But, now that she knew that he was all right, he wanted to leave her?

"I need you to stay with Minerva."

"I don't want you to go," Zoe cried childishly, selfishly. But she didn't care.

"I know," her father said, standing. "But you are safe here."

He briefly pulled her to him again to comfort her and then pushed her away. He put his hands on either side of her head, making sure he had her full attention. He looked her directly in the eyes.

"No longer than a day," he reiterated.

Zoe's eyes were watery, but she nodded her head as Minerva came up behind her, putting an arm around her shoulders, thus taking up the reassuring physical contact from her father.

Her father's eyes shifted up to the Headmistress's briefly, and then he reentered the Floo and was gone.

Zoe turned into her godmother fully then and began to sob.

Minerva allowed her to cry for several minutes as she merely stroked Zoe's head and held her tightly as they stood in the middle of the sitting room. Eventually, though, she managed to coax Zoe into the bedroom of her quarters.

"You're safe now, Zoe. It's going to be all right," Minerva said softly, gently combing through Zoe's hair.

Zoe was laying on her side in the large bed, turned in toward her godmother, her head resting on the mattress just below the line of pillows as she continued to sniffle, tears streaming from her eyes and down her cheeks. She held a handkerchief in her hand that had been put there when they'd entered the bedroom. Minerva sat up against the headboard and numerous pillows, slightly angled toward Zoe and very close as she tried to comfort her goddaughter.

Aside from the sporadic placation or shushing and, of course, Zoe's weak crying, the two witches remained quiet. Zoe couldn't really pinpoint how she felt at that moment; she was experiencing such a jumble of emotions. It was comforting to be in the presence of her godmother, but she wanted her father there as well. And everything she'd just witnessed… well, it was all so muddled in her head that she was having trouble sorting through it all.

When she had seemed to quiet down significantly, Minerva took the opportunity to speak.

"Do you wish to talk?"

Zoe only shrugged. She didn't really know what had happened and she didn't really feel like explaining to anyone what she had seen—not yet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her godmother give a subtle nod.

"Perhaps we'll just try to get some more sleep, then?" she asked kindly. "I'm sure you'll feel better after some rest."

Minerva sat forward and grabbed the duvet, which she pulled over the two of them before making herself comfortable further down the mattress.

Zoe merely lay there unmoving, her eyes open and still thinking on the night's events. Then, a horrifying image came to the forefront of her mind. A body, sprawled on the ground, the eerie light from the tree set aflame in their garden casting long, subtle shadows over the partially-masked face…

"Min?" she said softly after several minutes. Just that single syllable was enough to make her voice shake.

"Hmm?" Minerva responded. She opened her eyes to look at Zoe, concerned.

"Why did those wizards come?"

"I don't know, dear," Minerva said, but she'd paused for a bit too long beforehand, Zoe thought. This gave her the impression that her godmother had an idea at least of why she and her father had been attacked in the middle of the night and for whatever reason was choosing not to tell Zoe her theory.

Zoe took a deep breath, as a feeling of suspicion—bitterness, even—grew inside her at this withholding of information. However, at the same time, a flood of horrifying images replaced those emotions and Zoe found she couldn't hold onto the anger at her godmother when she so desperately needed her there to comfort her in her fear.

"I saw—" Zoe began, her voice wavering uncontrollably. "There was a man. He fell from the roof, I think. I saw him in the garden… He was—" she cut herself off as fresh tears formed in her eyes and a swell of emotion overtook her.

"What is it, Zoe?" Minerva asked kindly.

Zoe met her godmother's eyes. "He was dead."

The pain and unease in the Headmistress's eyes was pronounced. She moved closer to Zoe then, and pulled her to her as Zoe's tears flowed freely once more.

"I thought Papa was going to die, too!" she sobbed into Minerva's shoulder. "And then another wizard… He was wearing a mask… He came toward me— I didn't know what to do!"

"Shh… You're all right. And your father is fine."

"Why did he leave me?" Zoe asked through hiccoughs.

There was a moment of silence before she heard Minerva give a heavy sigh.

"Zoe, your father had to go see to some matters that could not wait. He, himself, is not entirely sure what went on or why, so he must begin an investigation. He did not leave you. You will see him again very soon."

"He was so mad at me," Zoe said then in a low voice after a few moments.

"Yes, Ollie said you put yourself in harm's way," Minerva replied, pushing Zoe's hair away from her face. "I imagine you worried and frightened him greatly."

"I thought he was the one that fell from the roof," Zoe said in her own defense, looking up to her godmother. "I _had_ to make sure it wasn't. I know I was supposed to stay in the house, but—"

"Shh," Minerva said quietly, giving Zoe a reassuring squeeze. "We needn't talk about it now. Try to rest."

Zoe nodded and tried to quiet her sniffles then, for Minerva's sake. She could tell her godmother was tired and unsure of how to handle Zoe while she was so fatigued and still had so little information. She may have even wished to wait until Zoe's father returned to talk about anything.

Still weeping a bit, Zoe snuggled into her godmother and closed her eyes, but she knew a restful sleep was unlikely to come.

* * *

><p>From the middle of the road, Severus looked upon the three-story detached home in Twickenham outside London. It was a typical, run-of-the-mill, upper working-class home, he thought. It was brick with white trimming around the windows and a small first-floor balcony. A brick wall surrounded the entire property and hedges stood tall at the front of the garden, blocking the lower half of the house from the view of passersby on the road. A short, wrought iron gate was seemingly all that stood between the pavement and the front garden.<p>

However, Severus could not move any closer to the house than he currently was due to the intensity of the wards that surrounded it. He imagined that Potter was already well aware of another wizard's presence in front of his home and, despite sunrise being nearly three hours away, he hoped the Auror wouldn't leave him waiting in the cold for too long. After all, Severus hardly had the warmth of a layer of robes, and warming charms only went so far. The cloak he wore over his nightshirt was thin for he'd hastily transfigured it from a scrap of parchment he'd found in his trousers pocket after he'd spoken with the chief Auror on duty at the Ministry minutes before.

The gruff, mousy-haired wizard had been reluctant at first to hand over the address of Harry Potter, but had finally conceded that the Head Auror would want to hear Severus's tale first hand—would want to discuss and strategize with his former professor himself. And he would not mind being awoken in the middle of the night in order to do so.

And so, here Severus stood before 14 Strawberry Hill Road, thankful that he wouldn't need to expel magical energy to conceal himself from the sleeping residents of the currently quiet neighborhood. The duel he'd just fought had taken much out of him, after all, and parting with his daughter after such a traumatizing experience had practically drained him of what little he'd conserved post-battle. His left knee was throbbing painfully and the cut above his eye was starting to sting with the dissipation of adrenaline in his system.

Minutes passed and Severus was just about to conjure a Patronus to wake Potter when the front door flew open and Potter stepped onto the stoop, his wand held cautiously at his side, the look in his eyes wary, but calculating and controlled.

"Years ago," Potter spoke. "During my third year at Hogwarts, you caught me out of bed and tried to confiscate a large piece of parchment. A 'Mr. Moony' insulted you in print. What did he say?"

Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Despite your obviously deficient observational skills, I'm sure even you have realized that it's far from balmy out here, Potter. Is this sort of inquiry really necessary?"

"I've been informed that your home was attacked by Death Eaters tonight," Potter responded rather condescendingly. "You tell me."

Severus sneered at the insufferable younger wizard, conveying his displeasure at this ridiculous tactic to determine his identity. But he couldn't deny that Potter had a point. And he had every right to determine that Severus was who he appeared to be before allowing him into his home where his wife and children resided. He couldn't really blame him either; he'd probably do the same. Nonetheless, he huffed, glaring. At least Potter already knew what had transpired. That would make it easier on Severus to begin his tale of the night.

"If I answer your bloody question, you'll allow me to come out of the cold?"

"Of course," Potter said, leaning back against the wall of his house and crossing his arms over his chest. "As always, I look forward to your ever-pleasant company."

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"You'll have to give me a moment since you've so kindly chosen such a _significant_ event from over twenty years ago."

"Take your time, Professor. I'm sure the sun will warm things up a bit when it rises in a few hours."

Severus ground his teeth at Potter's cheek, but closed his eyes, willing his brain to remember despite his shivering.

He recalled that night much more vividly than he'd like. Potter had been impertinent then, too. Of course, Lupin had swooped in and saved the boy before Severus could assign a dozen or so rather lengthy detentions for his disrespect…

Growling lowly, the memories rushing back to him, he willed his mind to see what had been written on that ridiculous piece of parchment. After a moment, the words began to form, oozing into the forefront of his mind as the ink had on the parchment. Severus opened his eyes and looked at Potter directly.

"After feigning a compliment, _Mr_. _Moony_ bid me to keep my abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

The grin that erupted on Potter's smug face was enough to convey to Severus that he'd answered correctly. The Auror waved his wand once, silently bringing down the wards. He signaled for Severus to come toward him.

"Please, Professor, do come in out of this miserable cold."

Severus rolled his eyes again, but followed the blasted wizard into his home.

"You're limping. Would you like a pain potion?"

Severus was rather surprised by Potter's concerned tone and genuine hospitality, especially after the not-necessarily-cordial banter they'd just had. He was also glad that his wounds were recognized but not fussed over, as Severus was sure Minerva would do once he returned and her shock of the whole situation had faded.

"That would depend on the identity of the brewer," Severus said dryly as he stepped over the threshold. He'd most certainly take a pain potion if one was offered, but the Potions Master in him refused to imbibe anything sub-par or likely to poison him.

Potter gave a knowing smile. "It wasn't me, I swear. Since Ginny started work again, Molly keeps us supplied with most of our medicinal potions these days. Especially since the closing of Constantine's shop."

Severus nodded. He knew that Molly Weasley, having raised seven children and been the self-appointed matriarch of the Order of the Phoenix, was more than proficient in pain potions, Pepperups, and fever reducers. Her potion would work wonders.

"If you don't mind, then," Severus said, trying not to seem too desperate to ease the pain in his knee. He'd hardly be able to think straight until the throbbing died away.

Potter nodded. "Come to the kitchen. I'll make us some tea and get you that potion."

Severus followed Potter down a long corridor to the kitchen at the back of the house. He crossed it immediately in order to take a seat at a breakfast nook on the far side of the room that was surrounded by windows. Even though it was dark outdoors, Severus could see through them, noting that the back garden was large and long with high, dense trees on either side of it—perfect for low-flying Quidditch matches. He was certain Potter and his wife chose the house for this very feature. Of course, a few complicated, but well-placed charms would make the numerous, immense rugby fields in the area ideal for the insufferable sport as well.

"Here," Potter said, setting a vial on the table in front of Severus before turning to put the kettle on.

"Thank you," Severus responded a bit distractedly. The color was correct for a pain relief potion and, had his knee not twinged painfully then as he slid it under the table, he may have inspected it further. Instead, he downed it in one gulp and silently willed it to work quicker than the ten to fifteen minutes it usually took for the potion to take effect.

"I have to say, Professor: you put us in a bit of a spot," Potter said then from the counter where he was pouring the water over the tea to steep. "Leaving the scene of the attack, I mean. We were worried you and Zoe had been captured until we found evidence that the Floo had been activated in the last hour. It was lucky that you showed up at the Ministry just as we were consulting with the Department of Magical Transportation."

"I'm surprised the Ministry was even aware that an attack occurred," Severus said dryly. "I was practically in awe that the Auror I spoke with knew exactly what I was talking about before I'd even explained anything."

"You live in a primarily Muggle community. Anything remotely magical that happens there outside of your own property is closely monitored, you know that," Potter stated.

Severus snorted. "I thought I knew that, but if that were the case, I'm sure the Ministry would have swooped down upon me years ago."

"They would have, but I've prevented it."

Severus furrowed his brow at his former student.

Potter smirked. "Come on, Professor. You used memory charms on a teacher and the headmaster at the Muggle primary school in Cokeworth and, just over a year later, on three boys who had been bullying your daughter. Do you honestly believe that those incidences managed to somehow fall under the radar?"

Severus was a bit gobsmacked and his expression must have showed it.

"But _I_ trust you," Potter said. "I knew you wouldn't have done anything without good reason and, after doing some research into those events myself, I concluded that the steps that you took weren't any different than the Ministry would have taken for your daughter's displays of accidental magic. And, of course, the ability she has with her eyes."

Potter paused, then said somewhat offhand, shaking his head and focusing his attention on the teacups in front of him: "Besides, I thought you'd rather not be disturbed. After everything… you deserved not to be disturbed."

Severus refrained from any comment. All right, so Potter knew of the magic he'd used illegally years ago. But he'd done it to protect his daughter from scorn or backlash. Even knowing now that the Ministry knew about it, he'd do it again.

Potter's sentiment about going undisturbed, however, unnerved him. That was exactly what he'd wanted. But how could Potter have known that? More importantly, why would Potter _care_ to respect that?

"_This_ _time_, however, the Ministry would have preferred that you remain in Spinner's End and answer some questions about your attack," Potter said then, bringing the conversation back on track. "Perhaps get Zoe's take on—"

"No. You will not be questioning Zoe."

Potter looked over his shoulder at Severus who held the Auror's gaze.

"Professor, she may be able to give us different details, perhaps a different perspective on—"

"There is no other perspective; we were attacked in the middle of the night by Death Eaters that should have been left to rot in Azkaban. Dangerous Death Eaters that _your_ Ministry released despite all evidence that indicated they were neither remorseful or rehabilitated for their misdeeds during the war." Severus's gaze was steely. "You will not be questioning my daughter. Full stop."

Potter's face was surprisingly impassive for a wizard whom Severus knew had always been notorious for wearing his opinion and emotions out on his sleeve for everyone to see. After several moments, he gave a nod and, somehow, Severus knew he would see to it that any questions his Aurors or others in the Ministry wished to ask would not be directed to Zoe.

"Several Muggles saw the whole thing," Potter said conversationally, bringing the tea over. He set it on the table and then took a seat on the bench opposite Severus. "They'll have to be Obliviated, of course."

"Are there any legal repercussions I should be aware of?" Severus asked pulling his teacup and saucer toward him.

Potter shook his head. "I'd have to consult with Hermione to be perfectly sure, but you were defending your home and family and, with the Muggle testimony we've gathered in the last hour, it's apparent that the attack was a coordinated effort, that you were targeted intentionally. Your neighbors were quite stunned to see you apparating and disapparating all over the place, by the way, firing off spells. They didn't seem to think you had such athleticism in you. A 'Mrs. Powers' described you as a morose, pasty fellow who rarely leaves the house. Apparently, she gave Auror Fleming quite the earful about Zoe's antics as well."

Potter sat back, running a hand through his hair with an almost fond look on his face, utterly ignoring the annoyed frown gracing the features of the wizard across from him.

"I'm rather sad I missed it, to be honest—watching you duel and best six Death Eaters would have been a real sight to see."

Severus rolled his eyes at that statement.

"You've gathered all this information in the last hour?" he asked skeptically, trying to steer the conversation back to something of substance.

"We work quickly. My Aurors have been giving me updates on the investigation every fifteen minutes."

Severus gave a single nod. "So there were six altogether?"

Potter took a sip of his tea and nodded. "One's dead—Dorian Babbage. He seems to be a new recruit this time around. He's too young to have been a part of the last war. His brother, Lester, is one that you managed to capture along with Alexander Montague—nice of you to put them in the conservatory, by the way, keep them nice and warm…"

Severus merely arched an eyebrow. He hadn't known how long it would take the Ministry to get there. He didn't want them to freeze to death before he had a chance to assure their fate of never seeing the light of day again.

"Neither of them are talking, though," Potter said. "But we have hope for Alistair Allen, who we found alive but unconscious on your neighbor's roof. He gave us the names of two other accomplices before he stopped talking: Edgar and Emmett Culpepper—also brothers. They managed to get away."

Severus nodded distractedly as he took a gulp of his tea, mulling the information over.

Potter was remarkably quick in his rundown of the perpetrators. He looked down a bit sheepishly then as if embarrassed by his own meticulousness. He cleared his throat.

"Er, do any of these names sound familiar, Professor?" he asked, taking out his wand and summoning a roll of parchment. He pulled a jar of ink and a quill over that had been sitting on the opposite side of the table, apparently to begin taking an official statement.

"Would not a Dicta-Quill be more efficient?" Severus observed.

"I like to write it out," Potter said unabashedly. "I remember it better this way and it's easier for me to cross-examine as I go along in order to make sure I'm getting the full scope of the case."

Severus merely arched an eyebrow, but inclined his head in understanding.

"The Culpeppers are familiar. They are members of a legacy of Death Eaters. Their father, uncles, and all their male cousins were prominent during the first and second wars. There are two Culpeppers, I believe, currently enrolled at Hogwarts as well, though I am unsure of their relationship."

"Tallulah Culpepper is a…" Potter said nodding and pulling a file across the table toward him to read from it. "…third year. She's a Ravenclaw, Edgar's oldest child, and the only one of his at Hogwarts so far. Petra Culpepper is Emmett's only daughter. She's in James's year. Gryffindor. I bet that went over well in the family…"

Severus nodded, storing that information away. Once again, it seemed that he'd be dealing with the precarious emotional fluctuations of the children of Death Eaters. At the back of his mind, he was relieved that both girls were young, impressionable, and not members of his own house. There was hope for them. With any luck, they'd quickly come to understand the error of their fathers' political prejudices and actions. With _any_ luck, they'd not grow up to have the same sentiments or wish to exact revenge.

"Edgar and Emmett were newly inducted just days before the Battle of Hogwarts," Severus continued. "I was there when they received their Marks. They were only boys then. Fifteen and sixteen, I believe."

Potter scribbled that down as Severus continued to talk.

"I don't know Alistair Allen or the Babbages. But Alexander Montague is, of course, a member of the Montagues of Cambridge—all of them pureblood fanatics. I'm sure he's well aware of the rumor that I was the one to kill his father on the grounds of Hogwarts during the final battle."

Potter looked up then. "Were you?"

Severus refused to answer that. If Potter knew that Severus had saved his future wife from the Cruciatus Curse cast by Reginald Montague all those years ago, he'd never live in peace again. Besides, Severus had merely sent a strong Banishing Charm at Montague, causing him to fall over the ramparts. It was hardly heroic. If Montague had been able to cast a decent cushioning charm, he'd probably still be alive to contribute to Severus's current anxiety and headache.

Nonetheless, Potter would no doubt feel the _need_ to do _something_ to thank Severus and Severus wanted no part of anything of the sort.

When Potter got the hint that Severus wasn't going to discuss it, he went back to his parchment.

"Right. Now that we've identified all the players, I'd like to try to establish a timeline. Can you describe the series of events from the time you were awoken—"

"What makes you think I was awoken?" Severus asked, frowning.

Potter looked perplexed. "It's the middle of the night. I assumed—"

"Need I remind you again that there is a saying about those who assume?"

Potter gave Severus an exasperated stare. "All right… So, you were awake. What alerted you that there was trouble?"

"You mean aside from the magical pull that indicated that my wards had been dissolved like sugar in warm water?"

Potter inclined his head. "Yeah, aside from that."

"They set my tree on fire," Severus stated plainly.

"Your tree?"

"Yes, Potter, the tree. It's kept in the garden. You're familiar with such a plant?"

"Yeah, right. Just…continue from when they set the tree on fire."

And so Severus did, telling Potter everything from when he exited his bedroom until he'd Flooed to Hogwarts. Potter interjected many times to ask questions, trying to get Severus to speak as specifically as possible.

"So Zoe is currently with Minerva at Hogwarts?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, I left her there before going to—"

"Dad, I've been looking all over for you. Lily's—"

Severus looked up to the entrance of the kitchen where the eldest Potter child stood, shirtless, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of wool, patterned pajama bottoms. He stopped talking upon seeing his Defense professor.

"What are you doing here?" he asked impertinently.

"Visiting," Severus said sardonically, relishing in seeing the abject confusion erupt on his student's still rather sleepy face.

"James, what is it?" Potter asked his son.

"Lily's calling for you. Well, actually, she's calling for Mum, but I looked in your bedroom and Mum isn't here."

"She was called into the office for some breaking news," Potter informed his son.

"Is there a new Tornadoes coach yet?" James asked eagerly, his sister's needs apparently forgotten.

Potter shook his head. "She said something about a high-profile retirement."

James nodded. "Probably Aiden Holtz with the Cannons. He was playing Beater in the Stone Age."

Potter let out a hearty laugh and stood. "Maybe." He looked to the professor. "I'm sorry. Lily's had a head cold the last couple of days. I'll only be a few minutes. James here can entertain you, though, if you like."

"Just what I need first thing in the morning, to be entertained by your spawn," Severus grumbled.

Potter had the audacity to grin. "You should be nice," he recommended. "You're in his territory now."

Severus scowled as Potter walked past his son and out of the room. James, meanwhile, made his way to what appeared to be a chill-charmed cabinet where he pulled out a glass bottle of milk and drank directly from it.

Severus narrowed his eyes. The child was absolutely uncivilized. He had his father's hair and the smug superiority of Sirius Black. He'd obviously been well-named.

After gulping down several mouthfuls, James waltzed over, set the milk on the table, and took up the seat his father had vacated, reaching down the bench to a basket of folded laundry. After a few moments of rifling through it and upsetting the neatly stacked clothing within, he pulled out a t-shirt and put it on. He then eyed Severus curiously.

"Why are you really here?" he asked, suspicion in his tone.

"Not to see you, I assure you," Severus said looking toward the windows. The sun was rising now and it suddenly occurred to him how tired he was.

"Obviously. You came to see my dad about something." It was not a question. "What happened to your eye?"

"I ran into a door," Severus snapped at the boy, turning back to look at him.

"I doubt it," James shot right back. "Were you in a duel?"

Severus gritted his teeth. This child was maddening to say the least. "Mr. Potter. We may be in your home, but I am still your teacher and your questions are personal and inappropriate. I suggest you cease with them."

"Why? You can't put me in detention over the holidays," James said smartly.

"_Try_ _me_," Severus warned lowly, setting the boy with a very stern look, daring him to continue.

James was quiet for a minute then. He picked up the milk bottle and took another swig, looking anywhere but at his professor.

"So… Where's Zoe?" he asked nonchalantly.

Severus's head whipped back to look at James. He scowled.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked slowly. He watched as the boy's face went almost white as a sheet as he realized his mistake.

"Oh, right. You didn't know that I knew that she's your daughter," the boy said. After a moment, he bounced back quickly, shrugging it off. "Well, my dad knows so, you know, I know."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy, but he had to concede that it was a bit of a long shot to assume that the Potter children would have been oblivious to certain relationships within the wizarding community. And he should have suspected that Potter would be unable to be discreet around his children.

James squirmed briefly, then looked up at him again. "So…where is she?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business," Severus bit back. Nonetheless, his personal life was personal—and that included anything regarding Zoe.

"Well, is she all right?" James persisted.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you ask?"

James shrugged and looked away, but Severus saw a pinkness creeping over the boy's ears. In fact, it was the first time Severus had ever seen him seem truly unsure of himself. "Just curious. It seems like I've never seen her when she isn't with you—King's Cross and stuff."

Severus arched an eyebrow, but didn't think further on it.

"She is with her godmother," he said simply with the tone he used to end conversations.

James Potter nodded slowly as his father reentered the kitchen, his pajama-clad daughter perched on his hip and his younger son following close behind. James rose to allow his father to set his sister on the bench in his place while Albus Potter greeted Severus with wide eyes.

"Good morning," Severus drawled awkwardly to the boy, uncomfortable with being gawped at.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," Albus said softly. James elbowed his brother after a few more moments having seen his brother's reaction to his teacher. Albus elbowed James back before their father stepped between them, separating them without a word.

"I'm sorry, Professor. Just a few minutes more while I get them settled," Potter said then. "Come on, boys, help me make some breakfast and you two can eat in front of the telly. James, please put the milk back so others can drink it."

"Mum doesn't like us eating in front of the telly," the younger boy said matter-of-factly as his brother obeyed their father. "She says it'll make us anti-social and turn our brains to jelly."

"Just this once," Potter responded, ruffling his son's hair before crossing to find the cookery.

After that, Severus merely observed the family's morning routine. The boys were helpful and polite while making breakfast. This…surprised Severus. Immensely. And the girl… Lily had been quietly staring at him, observing him, for the better part of five minutes now and it was unnerving him. She gave him a small smile.

Even with watery eyes and a pink, runny nose, she looked far too much like her grandmother—his Lily—had at that age. Her hair was more auburn than red, less like the Weasleys and more like the Evans' and the similar shape of her face was uncanny. Severus could tell that the girl's overall stature would be taller than Potter's mother's had been, however.

Though, it was the eyes that threw it all off. Potter's daughter had blue eyes—not dissimilar from the color of his own daughter's eyes, but they were not the almond shape that he remembered or Zoe's doe-shaped. They were rounder, like the shape of Ginevra and Arthur Weasley's.

From across the distance of the kitchen Severus could tell that the only one of Potter's children to inherit Lily Evans's eyes was the middle child—the quieter boy. Albus. The boy was the spitting image of Potter, but Severus could tell that he had nothing of his father's temperament. He was more calculating, more perceptive, perhaps even more studious. If Severus's instincts were correct, Potter would have a Slytherin on his hands in less than a year's time.

Once Potter had shooed the boys out of the room with plates of eggs and toast, he came back to the table. Lily scooted over so that her father could sit on the bench, then immediately crawled into his lap. Potter didn't act as if this was anything strange or inconvenient as he wrapped his arms around the little girl.

"Did Mummy give you any potions before she left?" he asked. Lily shook her head and Potter pulled out his wand to summon two vials to him, which he administered to his daughter expertly.

"Daddy, Professor Snape looks really tired," the girl observed in a not-so-subtle whisper after she'd swallowed what appeared to be a cough-suppressing potion. "And you didn't offer him breakfast."

Potter looked up to him briefly, then back down to his daughter. "You're right," he whispered conspiratorially. "Why don't you go in with your brothers so that Professor Snape and I can finish our talk?"

"Okay, Daddy," Lily said, slipping off her father's lap. The girl approached Severus then. Severus arched an eyebrow at her.

She appraised him for several moments. Then, audaciously, she leaned forward and pecked a kiss to his cheek. "It's all going to be okay," she said, giving him a small smile again before wiping her nose with her sleeve, somewhat ruining the sentiment she had expounded.

"What makes you say that?" Severus asked her.

Lily gave a shrug. "Because it just is," she responded.

"All right, Lily," Potter said softly and the girl turned away and left the kitchen.

Severus shook his head, flabbergasted. He didn't really mind the kiss from the girl; it had just surprised him. Other than Zoe, he was hardly known for endearing children to him, after all. "Your children are…" he started, watching Lily go.

"Charming?" Potter supplied with a crooked smile.

"Puzzling."

Potter smiled fully. "Not the wild bunch of hooligans you expected, hmm?"

Severus inclined his head but was still under the impression that, had his father not been under the same roof, James would have wreaked havoc within minutes. The other two children, however, did seem acceptably well-behaved and amiable. Ginevra's influence, no doubt.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Potter asked.

Severus shook his head. "No, thank you. Let's just get this over with."

"All right. Back to the questions, then," Potter said and they continued.

Severus was surprised at how thorough, yet brief, Potter was. His questions were succinct and professional and, had Severus observed their interaction from the outside, he would have been hard-pressed to recognize that there was any sort of history—good or bad—between the two wizards.

"Now, what can I do for you, Professor?" Potter asked once he had finished with his questions and set his quill down. "I assume since you came to me rather than waiting at the Ministry, that there is something specific you need?"

Severus couldn't help that he squirmed a bit. He hated swallowing his pride in any circumstance, but admitting he was wrong, confessing to his former student that he may have been a bit too hasty in making the decision to reject any defensive help in these troubled times was borderline torturous.

"I'm afraid I…underestimated the threat to my daughter and me," he said slowly. "I have reconsidered your offer of an Auror detail around our home."

Potter merely gave a knowing smile, nodding his head.

"Additionally, I ask to be assisted in the warding of my various properties—my current home as well as the shop and house I have recently acquired from Aldous Constantine."

"I think we can accommodate this request," Potter said professionally. "And, I advise that we get started immediately."

Severus inclined his head and then rose from the table, relieved that the pain potion was working. He reached out his hand to shake Potter's, finding that he wasn't the least bit reluctant to do so.

"Just let me call to see if Molly is willing to stay with—"

Potter cut off as the unmistakable sound of an owl tapping the window alerted them. Potter walked to the back door, opening it and giving a whistle. The barn owl soared from the nearby window and landed at Potter's feet. Pulling a few knuts from his pocket, Potter kneeled down and placed it in the owl's pouch then took the rolled up newspaper and reentered the house.

He unrolled it to read the headlines and looked up at Severus almost immediately.

"Just as I suspected," he said. "You made the front page."

Severus scowled as Potter walked back to him, holding _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_ out for him to take.

_**'Reclusive and Enigmatic War Hero's Child Revealed'**_ was the headline above a magical photograph of Severus and Zoe moving through the Ministry of Magic. The picture paused for several seconds on a close shot of Zoe looking about her surroundings. Severus could be seen at her side, walking resolutely through the Atrium, his face impassive.

_Severus Snape, recently reestablished Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School visited the Ministry of Magic early Tuesday morning on personal business. At his side was a young girl many believe to be his daughter. It has long been rumored that the mysterious hero had fathered a child, though nothing could be confirmed over the years. The Ministry's Affairs of Magical Families Office refused to comment._

_Known for his aid in the defeat of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named in 1997, Snape has been primarily absent from wizarding society, appearing periodically in Diagon Alley, but spotted most recently at the annual Christmas Ball held by Draco and Astoria Malfoy at their estate in Wiltshire where witnesses claim the mysterious young girl…_

That article continued on, speculating on Severus's whereabouts over the years, and questioning his connection to "the young girl". He rolled his eyes wondering why such fluff was considered a front-page story.

He looked down the page a bit more to see yet another picture of Zoe as she stood still in the Atrium, gazing up at the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Severus could just barely see his arm at the edge of the frame. A small piece beside the photograph had the headline: '_**Snape: The Next Generation'.**_

He opened the periodical, scanning the pages quickly. There was an article at the top of page three that gave a timeline of Severus's life and career with a gap of "mystery years" between the Battle of Hogwarts and the time, five years later, when he had applied for freelance potion work with St. Mungo's. Then there were several more years where he had appeared to fall off the grid up until his re-employment at Hogwarts just a few months ago.

Severus was annoyed, but it wasn't until he looked down to see his own face looking up at him alongside another blurry photograph of Zoe from the Ministry directly below the headline, '_**Who's the Mother?'**_ that he became angry. It was followed with what was clearly a premier display of speculative journalism, as the writer attempted to identify Zoe's mother from a list of prominent witches based on his daughter's looks alone. He absolutely gritted his teeth when he saw more than one convicted Dark witch mentioned.

"A bit off the mark, aren't they?" Potter said offhand as he read the same story at Severus's side.

Severus's anger was only augmented further when he saw that any real news—like that of the attack on his home and yet another release of former Death Eaters from Azkaban—had been relegated to page six. Meanwhile, _The_ _Prophet_ had felt the need to expand the _Opinions_ section to a full page so that all the ignorance of wizarding society could come out of the woodwork to conjecture on Severus's capacity and suitability to raise a child.

He took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly through his nose as he closed the newspaper and folded it.

"May I have this?" Severus asked Potter. He'd have no choice but to address the articles within with Zoe. He couldn't risk her going back to Hogwarts unprepared for the questions she would be asked. "I've had my subscription…suspended…for various reasons in the last weeks."

Potter nodded his head. "James will be a bit disappointed that he couldn't read it, but go ahead. His mother will provide him with a copy tomorrow if he asks her."

"You let your twelve-year-old read _The_ _Prophet_ in light of all the recent violence and chaos being reported? Despite the fact that it's obviously uneducated drivel?" Severus asked.

"To be fair, Ginny's columns are completely factual and well-written."

"Oh, yes, thank Merlin the public remains well-informed on the all-important Quidditch standings," Severus said dryly.

Potter gave a self-deprecating grin, but then grew serious.

"Ginny and I feel that James has a right to know what's going on in his world—especially considering he and his family are likely to be targets in this. I want him to be vigilant of his surroundings and know why everything is happening around him and who is instigating it. I know that he trusts me as his father, but I don't expect him to just take my word for everything simply _because_ I'm his father. I want him to have opinions and come to his own conclusions. I don't feel that children can make informed choices about their own safety—about anything, really—if they aren't, in fact, _informed_."

Severus merely arched an eyebrow, but didn't respond. Somehow, he got the impression that Potter was trying to impart something to him—something about being open with his own child regarding these events, about the events of the past. A part of him was deeply offended that the younger wizard felt the need to lecture him, but another part of him could hardly blame Potter. After all, Harry Potter had been a part of some rather significant events at their respective children's ages and had been privy to next to no information that involved him in the bigger scheme. And, in many cases, that had been to Potter's detriment, and not to his safety or advantage as those who were tasked with his care had assumed.

Severus supposed he could therefore understand Potter's impulse to treat his own children to much more information about the current events of the wizarding world—no matter how seemingly age-inappropriate those subjects may be.

Severus therefore inclined his head and began to make his way to the exit, Potter walked directly behind him. As he came to the front door once again, he noticed now that he could see into a small parlor just to his left. Inside, all three of the Potter children were lounging on sofas, their eyes glued to a television. Lily looked to be on the brink of sleep once more, wrapped snuggly in a blanket, as her head rested against James's shoulder. The eldest Potter didn't seem to mind this in the slightest.

"How do you manage to make it work?" Severus asked curiously.

Potter followed Severus's eye line. "The telly, you mean?"

Severus nodded. "The magic here doesn't disrupt the transmission?"

"Oh, Gin and I can't go in there or the signal goes haywire. Even James's magic is starting to have an effect on Muggle technology, but it mostly works for them in the meantime."

Severus nodded again. Even _if_ he allocated a specific room of the house for a television for Zoe, he doubted her decidedly advanced magic would allow for a clear picture. And she'd probably never use it anyway, bookworm that she was. Still, it was rather refreshing to see the Potter children so fluidly incorporating Muggle aspects into their lives. Severus had noticed that no magic had been used in the preparation of breakfast either.

Potter opened the door then.

"Well, thank you for allowing me to get that statement. I'll set up a team in the next few minutes and meet you in Spinner's End to start the warding process. We can coordinate and apparate to your other properties after that."

Severus, once again, gave a curt nod of his head and exited the home. Before he'd gone more than a step past the threshold, however, he turned back.

"You know, Potter, after everything you did back then, you also deserved to go undisturbed, to raise your family in peace," Severus stated. "Nobody of any consequence would have judged you for passing the burden."

Potter merely shrugged. "After the Battle, I realized that I _wanted_ to help rebuild our world. I spent my Hogwarts years despising and resenting the attention but, in the end, I made the choice to step into the limelight willingly."

"Why?" Severus asked scornfully, not understanding in the slightest.

Potter turned his head to look into the little room where his children sat, giggling at the cartoon displayed on the screen.

"For them. Unfortunately, I couldn't have played an integral part in shaping the safety of their futures without a bit of media attention—not after what I did. Not being who I am. It hasn't been _too_ annoying of a payoff, to be honest. I haven't regretted it, in any case."

Potter turned back to Severus, half smiling. He reached out his hand once again and Severus shook it. "Thank you for your help in the investigation, Professor."

Severus inclined his head. "See you in a few minutes."

Then he stepped away from the house, and disapparated away.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Does everybody know what time it is?! REVIEW TIME! :)<em>**


	25. A Glimpse of Past Climates: Part II

_**Hello everyone! I know... it's been AGES since I last updated. But I've had very good reason! Er... Writing is hard. Not to complain or anything, but things are going to start getting hairy for our protagonists in this story and I'm trying to make sure certain details don't go missed. Also, look at the LENGTH of this chapter. It really is out-of-control. And this one's a bit talky, but there's some good stuff in there, I promise!**_

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!**_

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong>A Glimpse of Past Climates: Part II<strong>

They began the warding process at Spinner's End. Although the sun had nearly risen, the sky was still dark, gloomy, and overcast when Severus apparated into his back garden, his wand drawn—just in case.

Two Aurors approached him almost immediately, their credentials held out in front of them for his own review. Auror Arabella Fleming he already recognized, of course and, though she seemed incredibly young, the way she held herself and talked with him, Severus somehow trusted her professionalism and ability. The other Auror was a stocky, older man named Jason Lockhart.

"Lockhart?" Severus asked, lifting an eyebrow and giving the man a skeptical look.

"No relation to Gilderoy Lockhart, Professor. Just an unfortunate coincidence of surname," the wizard said. "I assure you, my defensive accomplishments are my own."

"I can vouch for that," Auror Fleming spoke up. "Jason's got a mean Stunner and still holds records from agility training."

Severus inclined his head then excused himself to go inside, change clothes, and gather everything he needed for Zoe and himself, for they would not be returning to the house before the new term started. He'd decided that much.

When he returned to the garden, Potter had arrived with a small company of witches and wizards, some Severus recognized—numerous Weasleys, mainly—and some he didn't.

Introductions went around.

"You've already met Aurors Fleming and Lockhart, I see. This is Calista Smith," Potter said, indicating a middle-aged, diminutive witch with shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair, a dark complexion, and entirely too much eye makeup. "She's our Chief Warder in the Auror Department and she's come up with the plan for your properties that will include powerful shielding, wizard and Muggle detection charms, and an Anti-Apparition spell, among others."

Severus reached down and shook hands with the Auror.

"An honor to finally meet you, Professor," the witch said in a raspy, American accent. Severus gave a nod and moved on to two wizards beside her.

"Grayson Hodges and Gulliver Gray," Potter said, pointing to the wizards. "Defensive specialists. They're incredibly powerful in their own rights but, together, truly a force to be reckoned with."

"Gentlemen," Severus said, shaking each of their hands in turn.

Next, Severus was greeted by possibly the most aggravating student he'd ever taught. Images of overlarge teeth and an eager hand in the air swam to the forefront of his mind as he laid eyes upon her now, and yet, he was surprised to find that her very presence no longer gave him a headache. In fact, he was rather calmed knowing that the brightest witch of her age would be assisting in the securing of his home. She _had_ been the brains behind Potter's operation all those years ago, after all.

"Good morning, Professor. It's so good to see you," Hermione Granger-Weasley said, shaking his hand and standing on her tiptoes to peck a kiss to his cheek. He blinked rather dumbly. It was the second time that morning that he had been approached with such affection and he was utterly thrown off by it all.

"Mrs. Weasley," Severus acknowledged.

The witch scoffed. "Oh, Merlin, don't call me that," she said with good nature, smiling kindly. "You'll make me feel old or I'll think you're talking to my mother-in-law. Please, it's just Hermione."

Ron Weasley stood by his wife, his awkwardness still rather pronounced as he shook Severus's hand.

"Professor," he said simply.

"Weasley," Severus replied just as plainly.

Severus was rather pleasantly surprised to see Arthur and Bill Weasley among the crowd of warders as well, for he was already fully aware of their abilities having both assisted in the warding of Hogwarts before the final battle there, as well as in constructing the defenses around Grimmauld Place while it still acted as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore-trained, he knew those two, at least, would be assets in assuring the safety of his home.

He shook their hands and then the group got to it, taking positions several yards apart around the perimeter of his property. For the time being, Zoe would not be able to venture past the brick walls of the garden. Severus knew she would not be happy about that but perhaps the danger would be neutralized by the time she returned to the house in the summer. He sincerely hoped so. The girl was too independent to be shut in for her entire holidays; he'd likely have to endure complaints every day if she didn't have the freedom to go to the river or walk about the neighborhood as she had before. Or she'd simply defy him and go anyway. Either way, if the wards remained, neither of them would have a pleasant summer.

Finished at Spinner's End, the team apparated to Severus's newly acquired home. Obviously, he'd never before been to the neighborhood in Hammersmith and when he laid eyes on his new property, he was rather shocked by its size. It was a three-story Victorian terraced home with greyish-brown brick on the top half while crisp white paint covered the trim as well as the wall separating the concrete-covered garden from the public pavement. The plants in front were a bit overgrown and unruly, but Severus knew that he could make short work of them—prune them back to acceptability.

He shook his head suddenly. Had he really already considered work to be done to the property? Where had that thought come from? He already owned a perfectly adequate home. This one would likely be sold with the money from it going into a vault for Zoe's future.

"I've dispatched half the team to the back, Professor," Potter suddenly said beside him.

Severus startled, but quickly tried to hide it.

"Would you like us to put some wards around part of the park as well?"

"Park?" Severus asked.

Potter nodded and smiled. "Yeah. You have a private entrance to Ravenscourt Park from the back garden. It's lovely—big trees, walking paths, a pond."

Severus furrowed his brow, curious, but he knew he didn't have the time to investigate the home and land. They still needed to get to Diagon Alley and Severus was anxious to return to Zoe.

"For now, we'll keep the enchantments to the formal boundary lines of the property," he instructed.

"Got it," Potter acknowledged. "_Expecto_ _Patronum_."

Severus watched as the familiar stag erupted from the other wizard's wand. For a moment, it paused, then split into multiples to send the message to each of their colleagues around the house.

"Er, I think Disillusionments are in order," Potter said then, looking around at the nearby homes. "The Muggles will be leaving for work soon."

Severus gave a single nod and immediately tapped his wand to the top of his head and, having cast the spell silently, he felt as the enchantment trickled down his body. Once he was completely disillusioned, he heard Potter begin the enchantments.

"_Protego Maxima_, _Fianto_ _Duri_…" Severus began chanting with him.

Less than an hour later, the house and gardens were protected with the same enchantments they had implemented at Spinner's End. Shortly after that, the group assembled inside Constantine's shop in Diagon Alley, having finally finished all the necessary warding.

"Excellent work," Potter said, addressing the witches and wizards before him. He looked to his former professor and sort of stepped to the side, joining the others and leaving Severus alone in front of everyone. He gave him an expectant look.

Severus didn't know what to say. Of course, he was extremely grateful for the time and effort they had put in to keep him and his daughter safe… But how was he to convey that without coming across as some sort of soppy old sod?

He swallowed his pride and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat.

"I'd like to express my…gratitude…to everyone here for your work this morning and for coming on such short notice," he began awkwardly. He took another deep breath then clasped his hands behind his back and stood a bit straighter. "The safety of my daughter is my utmost priority and I know now that in these troubled times in which we find ourselves embroiled once again, that I cannot protect her alone—as much as it pains me to say that."

Severus looked around at the group gathered before him. Hermione seemed to have tears in her eyes as she looked up at him with a sentiment that was foreign to him. It was almost…_reverent_. No, that couldn't be right.

"So…thank you," he finished quickly.

"It was our honor and pleasure, Severus," Arthur Weasley chimed, stepping forward to shake his hand.

Severus inclined his head and the group dispersed. He followed everyone out to the pedestrianized street, waving his wand to lock the apothecary door behind him, thus solidifying the wards.

"What are your plans for it?" Hermione asked suddenly and Severus noticed that she and Weasley, as well as Potter, had lingered behind while everyone else had disapparated away.

Severus looked back at the apothecary and furrowed his brow.

"I…haven't given it much thought," he stated honestly. "I suppose it would be rather favorable for business to have a fully-stocked, working apothecary in my ownership. However, I'd have to hire someone to run it."

"At least there are so many qualified potioneers to choose from, thanks to you," Potter said smiling.

Severus raised a single eyebrow. "Any and all of whom I'd consider my potions protégés have well-established careers. They would not want to be lowly apothecaries. As such, it's likely to be difficult to find a Potions Master of exceptional standards. The search will undoubtedly be exhaustive."

"_Picky_," Weasley coughed then, clearly wanting Severus to hear him. He even had the audacity to hold his old professor's gaze as Severus glared at him.

Weasley's wife elbowed him in the ribs, however, and settled Severus with a kindly expression. "I'm sure you'll find someone, Professor." She looked up at the shop with longing then. "I'd have killed to have the opportunity to grow up in an apothecary. Zoe's very lucky."

"I am certain she will find some manner of disadvantage to it," he drawled dryly, thinking of his daughter's attitude toward her chores in the conservatory.

Apparently, his statement was amusing, for Hermione Granger-Weasley grinned and giggled while Potter let out a hearty laugh himself.

"That's probably true," Hermione said. "Even our Hugo and Rose have grown tired of the joke shop the older they get. They used to love going into work with Ron."

"James never gets tired of the joke shop or the Ministry," Potter said good-naturedly. "I think he thinks becoming an expert in the secret methods of prank paraphernalia production will give him an in with the Unspeakables some day."

Potter and the Weasleys laughed again and Severus suddenly felt very awkward and out-of-place. Although he realized that it was he who had started this conversation, it was an odd feeling that came over him as he subsequently grasped that he was being included in a parental chat with his former students about their respective children. And not just any former students but the students that the media had dubbed the "Golden Trio"; the three students who had given him the most headaches and worrisome thoughts in his first tenure as a Hogwarts professor.

He'd never really been in a situation like this before and, as he contemplated how best to make his leave without seeming rude (after all, they had volunteered to assist him and he genuinely didn't want them to feel as if he was ungrateful), the former Miss Granger saved him.

"I'm sure you want to get back to Zoe. She's had an awful night, poor girl."

Severus merely nodded once.

"I have to get back to my own kids," Potter said. "See you tonight?" He looked to his friends.

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said, then: "Come on, Ron. If you don't get to the shop soon, George will have your head. You said you'd be there by lunch time."

Potter turned to Severus and held out his hand, which Severus took. "Professor," he acknowledged. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

Severus inclined his head. "Send me an owl, Potter. I will make myself available before the new term to come to the Ministry and discuss whatever it is that you and Minister Shacklebolt wish to discuss regarding current threats."

Potter couldn't keep the grateful look off his face.

"I appreciate it."

He Disapparated away then as the Weasleys turned to make their way up the Alley. "Have a wonderful New Year, Professor," Hermione said over her shoulder.

However, as they walked away and Severus was gathering his determination to apparate to Minerva's, his gaze settled on the ostentatious shop front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and an idea occurred to him.

"Weasley!" he called and the couple stopped, turning back to him. Severus walked forward swiftly. "I wonder if I might have a word with George. I have something of a favor to ask."

* * *

><p>By early afternoon, Severus apparated into the farthest garden from the manor. Tall hedges surrounded the small, enclosed patch of grass and it was, quite literally, the only part of the rather extensive grounds that was not blanketed in an Anti-Apparition Charm.<p>

Straightening his robes, he stepped through a gap in the hedge and looked up upon Budhmor Firth. The McGonagalls had never had nearly the wealth of most pureblood families, such as the Malfoys and the Blacks, but they'd lived comfortably for over three centuries in this estate outside of Portree on the Isle of Skye.

It was a small manor—three stories tall and only seven bedrooms—but from where Severus stood, he couldn't deny its regality. The exterior was of the traditional Scottish baronial architecture with a stepped roofline and several bartizans jutting out from the main wall of the house. Ivy grew unhindered up half of the front and one side, snaking around windows and old, iron lanterns attached to the stone. Low, but sturdy stone walls separated out the perimeter of the gardens while the remnants of stone pens where sheep were once kept had been consumed by moss over the decades. Beyond the walls were rather expansive fields and low hills that stretched to the sea—all McGonagall land.

Of course, the home stood empty much of the year for Minerva had her duties and quarters at Hogwarts. In fact, for the last decade, Severus was certain that it received the most use during the month of August when Zoe typically came to stay here with her godmother for a week or two.

As Severus drew near the house and his feet moved from grass to the soft crunching of tan-colored gravel, his magical weariness and general fatigue started to weigh heavily upon him. He hoped Minerva and Zoe both would allow him the courtesy of a few hours' sleep before inundating him with endless questions.

Approaching the back of the house, Severus admitted himself into the mudroom, pulling his cloak from around his shoulders and hanging it upon a hook by the door. He trudged into the kitchen and was not altogether surprised to see Minerva sitting in a chair at one end of the long servant's table. She appeared to be reading through Hogwarts documents of some kind. She looked up when he entered the room, giving him a concerned stare.

"I see you still haven't done anything for that eye," she chided and indicated for him to sit to her left.

Severus solemnly approached and collapsed into the hard chair. He didn't complain or even care when the witch pulled out her wand and healed the cut above his eye as if she were his mother.

"It'll remain swollen for another day or so unless you put a salve on it," she observed, pocketing her wand.

Severus nodded. "Thank you," he managed to get out before a genuine yawn overtook him.

"Your room is prepared as soon as you're ready for it," Minerva stated. "Which I'm assuming will be minutes from now."

"Indeed. If I wasn't worried for the state of my neck in a few hours, I could likely find this table more than accommodating for slumber."

Minerva smiled kindly, then her features sobered.

"You talked with Harry?" she asked, waving her wand to put the kettle on.

Severus inclined his head.

"He assured me that I would not be brought up on charges for my breach of the Statute of Secrecy owing to the need to defend my home and family. The Muggles who witnessed the battle will be Obliviated in conjunction with the law and in cooperation of their own government."

Minerva wrinkled her brow. "I'd say all that goes without saying. Surely that's not all you discussed?"

"Of course that wasn't all," Severus snapped. He took a deep breath, calming himself. He truly was beyond tired from his lack of sleep and the emotional and mental beating he'd taken over the last sixteen hours—and the imminent stress of dealing with Death Eaters yet again was enough to put anyone in a mood. Nevertheless, he should reign in his curtness.

"Please, Minerva, would it be possible to discuss this later?"

Severus was grateful to see that Minerva seemed to understand his unwillingness to regale the last few hours at the moment. She gave a nod.

"Where is Zoe?" he asked then in an effort to change the subject and diffuse the tension.

"She was sent to her room several hours ago."

Severus's eyes darted to the headmistress's.

"_Sent_? Why?"

He was flabbergasted to say the least, for Zoe almost never gave Minerva reason to be stern with her, much less send her away for undesirable behavior.

Minerva took a sip from the teacup that had come to settle on the table before her. "Because, _like_ _her_ _father_, she has a nasty tendency to take her fatigue and frustrations out on people who don't deserve it—namely, me and the house elves. I sent her upstairs shortly after we arrived here from Hogwarts this morning when she voiced the sentiment that my asking her to assist with breakfast was 'bloody stupid'."

Severus sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "I apologize, Minerva. I will speak to her."

Minerva waved her hand. "There's no need to apologize on her behalf, Severus. I understand her behavior perfectly. Aside from the fact that she's had very little sleep, she's confused about why last night happened to the two of you. She's frightened and she's angry. For about an hour and a half after you brought her to me at Hogwarts, she was nearly inconsolable. I reassured her as best I could but, without being able to speak with her honestly about the past, there's little that was of comfort to her. She's feeling helpless and left in the dark."

Severus leaned his head back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn't know the first thing about how to address any of these complex emotional issues with his daughter. Emotions, after all, had never really been his strong suit. He always seemed to muddle through, of course, but he was constantly fearful that he'd handle something badly or even callously.

"Frankly," Minerva continued. Severus opened his eyes. "I feel she's also been worried for you while you've been away. You didn't exactly leave her with much reassurance. That's only stoked her frustration."

Severus nodded and hung his head. He'd truly mucked it all up, hadn't he?

He tried mentally to shake his insecurities from his head. He would tackle Zoe's emotional trauma when he could actually sit down and speak with her, but it currently wasn't wise. He was without sleep and likely to be a loose cannon with his temper and patience without proper rest. Just thinking about seeing her in the back garden surrounded by more Death Eaters than she even knew was enough to set his heart pounding with anxiety and make him grit his teeth with anger at her foolishness. He'd likely do or say something he'd regret at the slightest provocation. That would not exactly encourage trust and openness from the eleven-year-old.

"Has she at least eaten today?" Severus asked, resorting to focusing on his daughter's basest of needs.

"A bit, yes," Minerva responded. "I sent her up a tray for lunch, though Frannie said she ate less than half of it. I have hope that she'll eat more at dinner."

Severus nodded and stood.

"I apologize that I was short with you. I think it best for everyone that I get some sleep before dinner. I'll speak with Zoe after."

Minerva nodded. "And just so you're aware, I had to treat her feet for a mild case of frostnip, but she was tight-lipped about how it happened. Did she go outside without her shoes?"

"Completely barefoot into the snow," Severus responded, moving toward the door.

Minerva shook her head. "That girl," she said, exasperated, as he exited.

Having passed through the ground floor which contained a large drawing room, a library, Minerva's private study, and several other formal rooms, Severus rose onto the landing of the first floor where the family and guest bedrooms resided.

He climbed the large staircase to the upper floors slowly. His muscles were screaming in pain with each step up that he took. After some sleep, he'd have Ollie bring him some more pain relief potion from his stores at Hogwarts. But for now, he only had unconsciousness on his mind.

He moved straight past the first suite on the left, for it was Minerva's, and stopped at the next door, listening for any movement within. When he heard nothing, he slowly and quietly cracked the door open and peered inside.

Since making Minerva his daughter's godmother, this room had been devoted to Zoe. Frankly, it was enormous—more expansive in size than the main room of his quarters at Hogwarts. Though, to be fair, most of the sleeping chambers within Budhmor Firth were far from modest. Zoe's room, however, was still quite immense compared to the guest quarters he tended to use when staying with Minerva.

Directly across from the door was a wall of windows, below which a long, padded bench ran at about chest-level, perfect for laying and reading upon on stormy days. To the right of the door, there was a seating area with two wing-backed chairs, a coffee table, and a chaise lounge arranged around a fireplace. The walls that didn't hold windows were covered in thick, old tapestries containing pictograms of epic battles and treaties among the ancient Scottish clans. Despite how medieval the room was decorated, Zoe had never complained about the wall decor, choosing instead to make the room her own by arranging stuffed animals on the mantle and Spellotaping photographs and trinkets to the posts of the enormous, tall, canopy bed that took up a large portion of the wall to the left of the door.

Severus had always insisted to Minerva that a little girl hardly needed a king-sized canopy bed, that a single was more than suitable. However, seeing as how the furniture had been in the room since the house was built, the Headmistress had never felt the need to replace it. She had even seemed rather affronted at his suggestion that anything be removed from the room.

Therefore, when Zoe visited her godmother, she slept in luxury.

As Severus opened the door to Zoe's room, he noticed that the curtains over the windows were drawn, blocking out the early afternoon light. Therefore, he tried to keep as much light as possible from spilling into the dark room where the unmistakable rhythm of steady breathing permeated his ears, indicating that Zoe was sleeping.

Seeing the slim form of his daughter curled on her side in the very middle of the overly large bed satisfied his need to check on her and, quietly, he closed the door and crossed the corridor to the guest suite.

* * *

><p>Severus awoke hours later. He wasn't quite sure what had roused him, but he'd come back into consciousness with the distinct impression that he was being watched.<p>

Luckily, his positioning on the grand four-poster bed of the guest suite, his head turned to the side, gave him a perfect view of the door. Slowly, he cracked one eye open.

The door was barely ajar but even with no depth perception, he could make out the build and hair color of his daughter as she peeked in at him from the corridor. Their eyes met briefly, but when Severus didn't move after that moment, Zoe slowly and almost soundlessly closed the door once more. Deciding that was his cue to leave the world of dreams and reenter reality, he threw the covers off himself and rose to wash up and dress for dinner.

He'd been having unpleasant dreams anyway.

* * *

><p>"Zoe, cream crackers are hardly calorically beneficial," Minerva observed, looking sideways at her goddaughter with a stern, motherly expression.<p>

For some reason, Minerva had preferred the formal dining room for dinner that evening rather than the more intimate kitchen table.

"Nor nutritious," Severus drawled looking across the table at his daughter, curious about her lack of appetite.

Zoe didn't look at either of the adults, content to stare at her plate and take another nibble of her cracker. Severus cleared his throat in order to gain her attention. Her eyes met his briefly and she reached for her fork, but she merely used it to push the food on her plate around.

"Perhaps tomorrow we'll take a nice walk into Portree," Minerva said, clearly trying to lighten the heavy mood that had settled upon the room nearly the minute they all came into each other's presence.

"I can't," Zoe said succinctly, but lowly. "I'm still on restriction."

Severus looked up from his plate to his daughter. Though what she said was technically true, he was surprised she hadn't agreed to go and merely prayed that he would forget about her implemented penalty—that was more her personality. Merlin, it had seemed ages ago since he'd set that punishment. Entirely too much had happened this holiday.

Minerva eyed Severus, seemingly asking for leniency in the matter. Severus gave a subtle nod, conceding the restriction. The girl had been through enough without having to be cooped up inside an old manor for the rest of her break. Besides, she'd shown considerable remorse for the cellar incident. There was no need to prolong the punishment anymore.

"Your father's willing to suspend your restriction so that we may spend an afternoon together," Minerva said.

"I said, I can't," the girl stated moodily, shooting an angry glare at her godmother.

"Zoe," Severus warned.

She met his eyes, solidly holding his gaze. When Severus raised a single eyebrow, essentially daring her to continue, Zoe finally looked away. She took another bite of a cracker.

Minerva looked between the father and daughter several times. Severus could tell that the woman was exasperated and feeling like a third wheel in some unnamed struggle for understanding involving the two. After several moments, he heard her sigh heavily.

"I was telling your father before the holidays began, Zoe, that there's a new restaurant in Portree that I think we should—"

Minerva didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, for Zoe let out an annoyed huff, stood, and walked swiftly from the dining room without a word. Minerva's eyes were wide and Severus knew it was because she had never seen her goddaughter behave in such a way.

In all honesty, neither had Severus. Zoe was usually much more reactive than passive in situations such as these. He thought back on her lobbing her own house slipper at his chest. If she felt that there was truly an injustice in a situation, then she'd say so. He may not like to admit it, but the girl was most certainly his daughter in that regard.

"You have to talk to her, Severus," Minerva said. "I've never seen her like this. She's pushing us away and it's breaking my heart."

Severus brought his elbow up onto the table in order to rest his face in his hand. "How, Minerva? I've no experience with this… trauma in children."

"You always seemed to console your Slytherins during the last war when they or their families were involved in an incident. What did you do then?"

Severus shook his head. "Slytherin students who had witnessed violence had been around it or, at the very least, aware of it their whole lives. I merely reminded them of the Slytherin qualities of perseverance and duty and they would come out of whatever emotional meltdown or stupor they were having. Zoe is different, a product of a different political and social climate. She's been shielded from such things until now and I haven't raised her with the sense of superiority or toughness of many Slytherins. I haven't _prepared_ _her_ to live in a world where she fears for her life at every turn. I didn't imagine… I had hoped I wouldn't need to. Therefore, she can be… sensitive… to issues of pain and suffering."

"Then you need to be equally sensitive in talking with her, I think."

Severus gave Minerva a wary look. He didn't like the sound of that, though he understood the merit of the tactic. Of course, he would speak with his daughter and console her as best he could, but initiating sensitivity was not his strong suit.

"Was a Death Eater killed in your altercation last night, Severus?" Minerva asked suddenly.

Severus brought his eyes to meet hers and he nodded slowly. Minerva closed her eyes then and shook her head.

"She saw him lying dead in the garden. You'll need to address that as well."

Severus took a deep breath and stood. "This is unlikely to be easy," he observed aloud.

"The most important things in life rarely are," Minerva responded.

Severus inclined his head and exited the dining room.

* * *

><p>"You should never allow your mood to dictate your manners," her father said softly, leaning against the doorjamb of her bedroom. He wasn't even stern, merely informative. "You are angry with me and the situation we find ourselves in. Minerva is undeserving of your scorn."<p>

Zoe turned her head to look at him but didn't say anything, choosing not to acknowledge the fact that she knew he was right. After a moment, she turned back to gaze out the window once more, but she still observed her father's actions across the room from the corner of her eye. He clasped his hands behind his back and seemed anxious, fidgety even.

Several minutes passed. Finally, he stepped fully into her grand bedroom and closed the door behind him. Then he crossed the room determinedly to stand beside the high bench Zoe was perched upon, her knees bent up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. He leaned his elbow onto it, facing her as best he could.

"You don't wish to go into town with Minerva tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

Zoe didn't respond at first, but conceded to shake her head after a few moments. She heard her father give a heavy sigh.

"And why is that?" His voice was still very soft. It was kind of throwing Zoe off. She'd expected her father to reprimand her for her impudence in the dining room, but it seemed more as if he was trying to make her feel better.

More silence.

This was partially due to Zoe not really knowing what to say. In fact, she desperately wanted to go into Portree with her godmother for it had been over a year since she'd last been and she was anxious to see all the areas that she loved about the little seaside town. But there had been something in her that had lashed out, a strange, angry feeling that had caused her to say what she had.

The truth was that Zoe _felt_ angry with Minerva, with her father, and just in general. She didn't really know what was causing her to hold onto it, however. But if she thought about it, she could only say that she was feeling… uninformed. And that was making her… resentful, she supposed.

"I'm not blind, you know," she said quietly after several moments of gathering her courage, refusing to look at her father and ignoring the question he had asked. Instead, she focused on the lights of Portree she could see from her window, twinkling through the darkness across the moor.

"You think I can't see that something weird is happening," she accused, only a slight edge to her voice. Mostly, however, her tone was resigned. "You don't _trust_ me enough to tell me what's going on."

Her father didn't speak at first. He didn't even try to defend himself. Finally, he sighed heavily.

"It is not a matter of trust."

"Yeah. Right." Zoe didn't believe him. "What's it a matter of, then?"

"Your age."

Zoe turned her head to glare at her father. Then she let out a frustrated, annoyed growl and hopped down off the window seat to get away from him. She should have known his answer would be something stupid like that. _Her_ _age_. He acted as if she was a toddler and wouldn't understand anything. It was infuriating.

"I'm not a baby!" she yelled at him as she crossed to throw herself facedown upon her bed.

Her father didn't waste time following her. She felt the mattress shift as he took a seat on its edge. A moment later, he placed a hand on her back just below her shoulder blades. She guessed it was supposed to be for reassurance, but she'd never admit to him that the contact did, in fact, make her feel a bit better.

"No. You are not a baby," he said. "But you _are_ only eleven. Despite what you think, despite what you want, you are a child and you cannot expect to be included in every conversation among adults or privy to every scrap of information that you seek."

"Why not?" Zoe asked stubbornly, turning her head to face him.

"Because—" her father cut himself off. She figured he was going to say 'because I said so' like he always did and Zoe very much thought she was going to scream if he did. Instead, he took a deep breath and began again. "Because there are things you should not have to concern yourself with."

"But what if those things involve me? Like last night."

"If I feel it is pertinent for you to know, I will inform you."

Zoe rolled her eyes and turned her head away. "I won't hold my breath," she said irritably.

"I beg your pardon?" her father asked, his tone a bit of a warning.

Zoe knew he didn't care for her attitude, but she didn't really care what he cared for at that moment.

"You're never going to tell me _anything_," she said emphatically. "You make me study dumb old maths and Latin even though I hate them, but you won't tell me how Mr. Constantine died! And any time I ask you questions, you get angry and send me to bed like a baby. I'm tired of it."

"Frankly, I'm tired of these unfounded accusations from you," her father said lowly, though he didn't seem too angry yet.

Zoe sat up and glowered at her father fiercely. "They _aren't_ unfounded! I asked you about Mr. Constantine and you wouldn't even tell me _why_ you refused to tell me what happened to him! And I _know_ Minerva wouldn't tell me why those wizards attacked us last night. It's because you don't want her to! You're trying to hush it all up from me! I just know it! You want me to be stupid about things! You don't want me to know because you think I can't handle it or something! Well, I can! I'm a lot stronger than you think I am!"

Her father stared at her for what felt like an eternity as Zoe breathed heavily, her adrenaline racing a bit from her diatribe. She couldn't really tell what he was thinking. His expression never seemed to give anything away.

He turned his head away, looking toward the low fire in the grate on the other side of the room. Then she saw him close his eyes as he put his head to his chest, his hair falling down to cover his face.

Zoe didn't move. She merely stayed quiet and observed him, curious how he would react to what she'd said. Part of her expected him to stand up and leave the room, once again refusing to address anything of importance, but another part of her figured that if he were going to do that, he would have already.

"It isn't that I do not believe you to be strong enough, Zoe. That has never been the case," he said then, continuing to keep his gaze straight down into his lap.

Finally, her father lifted his head and looked her directly in the eye.

"It is that I don't want you to have to be."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, staring at her father. She didn't really understand what he was saying. When she didn't respond to him, he looked down at his own hands and continued.

"You are young and mostly untarnished or hardened by this world. You are whole. I want nothing more than for you to stay that way as long as possible. I wish only to protect you from these evils and the emotional burden they nearly always inflict."

Again, Zoe said nothing. She didn't know what to say.

"That being said," he began again looking to her once more. "I have given much thought to the series of events since our journey to the Ministry of Magic yesterday and I've concluded that there is information you are entitled to if for no other reason than so that you are aware of what is happening in our world at present. I will not promise to tell you everything in detail, but I invite you to ask your questions."

Zoe's jaw dropped. He was really going to give her some information? She didn't even feel as if she'd fought that hard yet to try to persuade him. Nevertheless, she fully intended to take him up on his offer.

"How did Mr. Constantine die?" she asked immediately. She made sure to keep her voice quiet, as he had. She no longer wanted her father to feel like she was being combative, but that she was merely curious.

Her father took a deep breath and locked his black eyes with hers.

"He was murdered in his shop," he said succinctly, but softly. "Presumably by Death Eaters."

Zoe felt her features melting into a strange, detached sadness. She looked down at her hands as she gulped, fighting back tears. She told her father she could handle this and she wanted to prove it.

"I— I thought it must have been something awful like that, the way you wouldn't tell me," she practically whispered.

She remembered Mr. Constantine vividly, despite only seeing him four or five times a year at most. He had been several years older than her father, but they had addressed each other as equals in their trade. The wizard had been very knowledgeable of various potions ingredients and never seemed annoyed when Zoe would ask questions or peruse the items in his shop, even when she'd touched things she shouldn't have. And he always gave her sweets when she came with her father. Even when her father had said no, Mr. Constantine would sneak one to her for Zoe to eat in secret later.

Zoe would always remember that about him. He'd been a kind man and she just couldn't understand why someone would want to kill him.

"Zoe?" Her father's voice seemed genuinely concerned when Zoe didn't speak for a long while. She was wrapped up in her own head, just trying to process the first bit of information she'd been given.

She looked up into her father's eyes as she drew in a deep breath.

"I'm okay," she stated. She still wanted to get through more questions. "A-and last night? Were those wizards in the masks… were they Death Eaters, too?"

Her father merely nodded solemnly.

"And… they probably would have killed us if you hadn't been able to fight them off?"

Her father's gaze was hard into her eyes, but his facial features were much softer, reassuring Zoe. He didn't have to say anything. She knew the truth just by his expression. She drew in a breath, finding it difficult not to cry. When a single tear left her eye, she quickly batted it away with her hand.

"Why did they come?" Zoe asked. "What did they want? We didn't do anything to them."

Her father gave a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face.

"Unfortunately, by their perception, we—or at least, _I_—have done a great deal to them."

Zoe wrinkled her brow again. Her father paused, then stood. He began pacing beside her bed.

"You know by now that I played a role in a great war many years ago, what you may not know is that my role was rather significant."

Zoe nodded.

"I was an… intelligence gatherer, of sorts," he continued. "I would relay vital information to an underground organization known as the Order of the Phoenix in an effort to fight the Dark—to bring about the downfall of a very powerful and sinister wizard. After the Battle of Hogwarts, where the war ended, all the wizard's followers—the Death Eaters—who hadn't been killed were imprisoned. They nearly all believe that it was my work with the war effort that landed them there, subsequently ruining their lives by dismantling their cause."

"What was their cause?" Zoe asked curiously.

"Blood purity and power. World domination. They aimed to control Muggles and any magical being they deemed beneath them; in their twisted view, that was what was best for the wizarding world."

"Sounds like Celeste and Cecilia," Zoe observed in a mumble under her breath. Her father seemed a bit shocked by her statement, but he didn't comment on it.

"Caroline and John say that the Death Eaters are evil and that they tortured Muggles and Muggleborns for fun," she continued. "Why would the Ministry let them out of Azkaban if that were true?"

Zoe's father paused in his pacing and shook his head. He let out an annoyed, but resigned huff. "Even I cannot fathom the level of bureaucracy and stupidity involved in such a decision. I advise you not to even try."

Zoe nodded subtly, still trying to wrap her brain around it all. So, her father had fought and worked to bring Dark wizards to justice. Now those wizards were out of Azkaban and were seeking revenge on him? Is that what he was saying? That didn't seem fair at all. Why couldn't the Ministry just make the Death Eaters stay in prison?

"Zoe, look at me," her father said then. She did as he said and saw that he had moved toward her. He was now standing against the bed. "I want to make it absolutely clear to you that their feud is with me, it is not with you. I do not want you to feel as if you have done anything wrong merely by association to me."

"But… why would I feel like that?" Zoe asked. "You were just doing the right thing for the Light side."

A strange expression took over her father's features then. He looked pained almost, guilty even. It startled Zoe, but almost as quickly as it appeared, it left his face.

"There are people," he said slowly, "people who are not necessarily a threat to you bodily, but that may say things to you simply because they have an impression of me and you are my daughter. They will try to make you feel inferior and unwanted; they will make you feel uncomfortable regarding these events and certain events of the past. They may call you names."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Why?"

Her father shook his head. "Because making someone else feel inferior makes them feel superior. Making you feel as if you don't belong, that there's something wrong with you or with me, validates their sense of not belonging or their own wrongness—in their minds, anyway. Try not to take it as personally as it may seem."

Zoe nodded. She was confused, but she wasn't really sure what sort of question to ask to clarify any of it. She therefore decided to keep her father's words in mind should a situation arise where someone called her a name to try to make her feel inferior or wrong. And, of course, she would remember to go to her father if she felt she was being bullied, as she had promised him during the first term.

"Are you still cross with me?" she asked him then, her head down, but her eyes looking up at him through her eyelashes. "You know, for leaving the house last night?"

There was a pause.

"I do not give you instructions merely to hear myself talk or, in fact, to make your life miserable," her father responded. "There is nearly always a reason behind what you may perceive as the directives of a madman. Last night, I told you to stay inside for your own safety. Had something happened to me, you could have sought safety with Minerva through the Floo, as we have discussed before."

"But that was in case of a fire or if the cellar blew up or something."

The gaze her father leveled her was very stern. "It was in case of any unforeseen event should I be incapacitated. You are to Floo to Minerva," he clarified. "You know that."

Zoe's shoulders slumped. "So you are still angry, then."

"No, I'm not," he stated as he took a seat on the edge of the bed once again. "I think you now fully understand the gravity of the danger you put yourself in last night. It would be meaningless for me to revisit the event with you and I imagine that dwelling on it would only make you feel enormous shame. That is not my aim. I want you to learn to keep yourself safe on your own merit, because you know your life to be valuable—because it is _enormously_ _valuable_—and not because you are worried about what my reaction will be."

Zoe nodded. "I understand. Thanks, Papa," she said softly before looking him directly in the eyes. "But I _am_ sorry."

Her father inclined his head. "Then we shall not speak of it again."

Zoe gave him a weak smile. She shifted her weight on the mattress and brought her legs into a crossed position facing her father.

"What were you doing while you were away this morning?" she asked curiously.

"After answering questions regarding our encounter last night, I spent several hours working with Mr. Potter and some of his Aurors to ward Spinner's End and our newly acquired properties from further attacks."

Zoe nodded, looking down again to soak that information in. Then she looked up at him abruptly. "What about Budhmor Firth?" she asked, her eyes wide. "Did you ward here too?"

Her father shook his head. "You needn't worry about that. We are quite safe here. Aside from the fact that it isn't widely known that Minerva is your godmother or assumed that we would seek refuge here, the protections around McGonagall land are ancient and very nearly absolute. Do you know of the Fidelius Charm?"

Zoe shook her head.

"The Fidelius Charm," her father began explaining, "is a spell that allows a secret to be contained within a person—such as the location of a house. It is the easiest way to keep a place hidden, though the spell itself is enormously complex. Many pureblood families will bestow upon their heirs the charm when they come of age. It protects their lineage and properties for generations, for the secret can only be revealed by the one in which the secret is contained. For example, Minerva is the Secret Keeper of Budhmor Firth. She has told me the location of her home, which I memorized. Therefore, I will always be able to find this place as long as the secret is passed through her line. However, I am incapable of sharing the secret with others because I am not the Secret Keeper."

Zoe's brow was furrowed.

"Do you understand?" he asked tentatively.

"I think so," Zoe said slowly. "Do I have the secret?"

Her father nodded.

"You may not remember learning it, but Minerva told you the secret before you were even three years old—just old enough to memorize an address. If she hadn't, you would not be sitting in this room now. You would only be able to look upon the moor and see an old, dilapidated shack where the house stands."

"Wicked," Zoe said, genuinely intrigued. "So, then, did you put a Fidelius Charm on Spinners End?"

Her father shook his head. "We will not be returning to Spinner's End before the new term. It seemed unnecessary at the present. The house is sufficiently protected for now and, with any luck, this threat will be neutralized by the summer holidays."

"So, we're going to stay with Minerva?"

"It's for only a few days," her father responded.

Zoe felt herself nodding once again and looking down to the mattress. Several long moments passed. Eventually, though, her father cleared his throat and Zoe looked up at him. He looked serious, but somewhat apprehensive. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it, rethinking what he wanted to say, she supposed. Zoe didn't give him the chance, however; there was something she needed to get out.

"That wizard in the garden was dead, wasn't he?" she asked softly. "The one that fell from the roof. I told Minerva that he was and I thought that he was, but I don't know for sure."

"Yes," her father said. "He was dead."

"Did you kill him?"

The second she asked the question and saw the haunted look on her father's face, she wanted to take it back. Another part of her, however, desperately wanted to know the answer anyway.

Her father was silent for only a second or two and he was looking at her, but Zoe got the distinct impression that he wasn't really seeing her.

"I did not," he responded then. "The spell was cast by one of the other Death Eaters. It was meant for me, but it missed."

Zoe gasped, horrified to imagine what it must feel like to have spells fired so maliciously toward her. Another tear rolled down her cheek unhindered as the thought occurred to her that, had it hit her father, he really would have been the one lying in a heap in the garden.

"And… was it a Killing Curse?" Her father had yet to teach the first years about Avada Kedavra in Defense, but a child of Zoe's age in the wizarding world would have to be truly thick not to know of that particular spell.

Her father shook his head. "I am unsure."

Zoe couldn't help that her chin started to waver as emotion overtook her.

This time, however, her father held out the arm that was closest to her, inviting her to move closer. Zoe didn't waste any time scooting over and falling into him, letting herself succumb to her emotions. It wasn't a hysterical crying, but a sad—yet oddly grateful—weeping. Her father didn't hold her tight, but brought his arm around her to rest at her waist as she leaned into his shoulder, wetting his robes with her tears.

"I was so scared," she confessed. She felt her father give her a bit of a squeeze. "I thought you were going to die. I don't know what I'd do if you died."

"You would go on with your life," he said simply, softly. "Just as you must move on despite Mr. Constantine's death."

Zoe didn't respond to his statement at first. He was right, of course, but she couldn't even fathom how she would find the strength to live life without her father there to talk to, to protect her, to teach her things.

She shifted uncomfortably at her father's side. "That's why I don't want to go with Minerva," Zoe confessed finally. "It feels…odd and… not right to do things I like when I know Mr. Constantine can't do, well, anything anymore."

She looked up to see her father's face. She saw him incline his head, and take up the expression on his face that meant he was considering something.

"Yes, it does feel odd to live when you've just experienced a death. However, firstly, Minerva's suggestion of a walk into Portree was only meant to diffuse a rather heavy dining experience. It was not a malicious attempt to make you forget about Mr. Constantine. And second, in situations such as these, it is best to try to ponder the deceased's opinion of your withdrawal from the things you enjoy."

Zoe blinked, thinking about her father's words. "He'd probably say that I shouldn't make too much of a fuss over him and to 'keep doing what I do'."

Her father nodded once. "Yes. I do believe he would have said something along those lines before stuffing your pockets with sweets."

Zoe let out an amused puff of air and sniffled from her crying earlier.

Father and daughter quieted and held onto each other for several minutes after that until Zoe let out a big yawn. Between sleep she just couldn't seem to catch up on and the heavy burden of her emotions, fatigue was setting in for her fast. Her father recognized this immediately, of course.

"Before you surrender to rest, you need to eat something," he stated.

Zoe shrugged. "I guess so." She really wasn't very hungry, but she didn't want to argue with him.

Her father stood then and faced her.

"Come. You'll apologize to your godmother while you're downstairs," he said sternly. "Your anger toward her was misplaced and your behavior at dinner and while I was away was unacceptable."

Zoe met his eyes briefly before looking down to her hands. She nodded.

"I know."

Her father gave a curt nod and held his hand out to her, which Zoe took as she slid from the bed onto her feet.

"I wish us to have several Occlumency lessons before you begin school again," he said then as they entered the first floor corridor. Zoe looked up at him curiously for his statement had seemed completely out of the blue.

"I believe strengthening your mental defenses will assist you in handling any…side effects…from your experiences," he explained. "Though, I also strongly encourage you to speak to either Minerva or myself if you have any feelings of anger or sadness regarding the events you have faced the last few days, or if you are confused about anything."

"Okay," Zoe agreed. Though she trusted her father's belief that the Occlumency would help, she was rather anxious about having a lesson, for it had been a fortnight since their last lesson and Zoe couldn't think of a single time since then in which she had practiced emptying her mind and focusing on nothingness. She hadn't even cleared her mind before bed every night as he had instructed and she knew her father would know that she hadn't.

As they approached the stairwell, her father gave a curt nod. "First thing after breakfast in the morning, then. We'll conduct the lesson in the library, I think, then we can spend the rest of the day with Minerva in Portree."

Zoe gave him a small smile as they descended.

* * *

><p>Zoe's Occlumency lesson the next day had not gone as well as Severus would have liked. After he allowed her nearly fifteen minutes to meditate in preparation for the lesson and after they had each deposited memories into their respective pensieves, he observed almost instantly that she hadn't been practicing. By the guilty expression on her face, he knew that she was also well aware that he knew.<p>

Nonetheless, he allowed the lesson to commence. They went over some of the theory she had read about in the book he had given her before he made it clear that he was entering her mind for the purpose of teaching only and not to pry, just as he had promised.

His initial entrance into her mind had been a disaster.

After seeing several images of the attack at Spinner's End from her point of view, including the face of the dead Death Eater who had seemingly fallen from the sky, he'd hastily pulled out of her thoughts, surprised by how startling those images were to his own disposition. The girl started crying almost immediately, remorseful for her lack of practice and distressed from reliving those events.

Severus shook his head.

"You've been through much these last few days. You needn't apologize for your emotion in that regard."

However, he'd handed her his handkerchief and, as she settled down, he'd taken the opportunity to remind her of their agreement regarding these lessons.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she'd said, her head bowed. "I really do want to learn. And I'm trying, but it's just been… a weird holiday, I guess."

"Remember your reading," he instructed. "With discipline, you _can_ be in charge of what thoughts and images come to the forefront of your mind. Occlusion is very helpful in keeping undesired emotions and images at bay. If you do not wish to see the Death Eater, then don't. Urge your mind to focus on something more pleasant, perhaps something academic or an enjoyable experience."

Zoe had nodded and he'd inclined his head. "Let's go again. _Legilimens_."

Zoe had grown frustrated after several more attempts to push him out were unsuccessful and Severus had ended the lesson there, weary and guilty of seeing her red, tear-soaked face. He didn't want to push her too far, after all.

After he'd reassured her once again, he chose instead to address another important issue with her—their exposure in the media.

"Why are there photographs of us all over _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_?" she asked, looking up at him, alarmed, after perusing not only the edition Potter had given him, but two more newspapers he'd accumulated since.

"We were seen together at the Ministry."

"So?" Zoe said. "People have seen us before, like you said."

Severus shook his head. "We were seen by the wrong person, apparently—most likely a reporter for the _Prophet_ or some other gossipmonger unable to mind his or her own business."

"But…why do they care? We aren't that interesting."

Severus sighed heavily. "I explained to you about my involvement in the war… back then, I was very well-known. Notorious, you could say. People on both sides of the fight knew my name, knew my appearance. But I was deliberately enigmatic and I left the wizarding world for many years after it all ended. That only fueled their curiosity. Now, here I am, nearly twenty years later, reinstated as a Hogwarts professor with a child they had only ever heard rumors of before."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. Her expression was pensive, but also slightly confused.

"Why did you leave the wizarding world?" she asked.

Severus gave a slightly amused snort.

"Ironically, it was to escape the media—mostly. After the final battle, several witches and wizards became the focus of a storm of interviews and exposés, including myself. It was virtually impossible to take a step into a public space without a bombardment of people wanting photographs or to shake hands. I wanted no part of it."

Zoe nodded thoughtfully, opening one of the newspapers to an inside article to read over it. After several minutes, she looked up at him rather apprehensively.

"Papa? How come you never told me you were Headmaster? And why aren't you still? _Hogwarts: A History_ says most Headmasters and Headmistresses hold the position until death."

Severus met her gaze and held it. That was not a question he had been expecting, though he supposed it was silly not to have. Nearly every article she was reading was describing him as "Former Hogwarts Headmaster", after all—as if that was the only distinguishing title for him—and it would be rash to assume that she hadn't discovered that little tidbit of information about him during her first term at Hogwarts.

"I obtained the position under…less-than-ideal circumstances," he explained. "I only held it one year and I didn't feel I ever had a legitimate claim to it for Minerva was the Deputy Head at the time of the former Headmaster's death—"

"Professor Dumbledore, right?"

Severus inclined his head in the affirmative, steeling himself for a question that, to his good fortune, his daughter didn't ask.

"When the war ended," he continued, "I stepped down and Minerva took her rightful place as the Headmistress of Hogwarts."

Zoe nodded. "Did you want to be Headmaster?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not?"

Severus shook his head. "I had not earned the position. It was a purely political appointment."

To his relief, Zoe didn't question that further either. She looked back down at the newspaper and closed it, focusing on the front page once again.

"Yesterday they didn't even know my name, but today…" She pulled the newest edition toward her. "…they called me Zora."

"The _Prophet_ has never been known as a pillar of journalistic integrity or accuracy," Severus drawled.

Zoe wrinkled up her nose in distaste. "People at school will know who I am now, though," she observed.

"Yes."

"So…since everyone knows about us now… does that mean I can be Zoe Snape again?"

Severus arched a single eyebrow at her. He'd expected her to ask how they were going to handle this issue. However, she obviously didn't see it to be as much of an issue as he did.

"I don't think so," he said casually. "I still wish for you not to be so easily identified as a professor's daughter."

Zoe slumped down in her chair. "But there's no point now. Everyone knows."

"Nevertheless, you will remain Zoe Agnew at Hogwarts," he stated.

Zoe looked away from him, clearly agitated with not getting her way.

"I don't understand why," she said as a grumble after a few moments.

"Zoe, we've discussed this. Children of professors are often targets of unwanted attention."

"That's a lie."

Both Severus's eyebrows shot up at her brazenness.

"Angus Longbottom isn't ever targeted," she elaborated. "And Teddy Lupin didn't have any problems either."

"How would you know what problems Teddy Lupin may or may not have had? He's already left Hogwarts."

The fact that his daughter squirmed uncomfortably was not missed on Severus. Nevertheless, she held his gaze and shrugged.

"Someone at school told me."

"Who?"

"I don't remember."

"Now _that's_ a lie," Severus countered.

The two were silent. Severus sighed heavily.

"Why is it so important that you go by my surname?" he asked her then.

Zoe looked at him as if he was mad. "Because… it's my name," she said simply.

And that's when it occurred to Severus that Zoe saw the name 'Snape' in a completely different light than he did. To him, the name was a representation of a broken childhood, a name manipulated into mean monikers by bullies at school and spit out in revulsion by students, colleagues, and enemies during dark times. In his mind, it was the name of the man had who sired him and then hated him, the man he'd resented almost more than the Dark Lord himself.

But to Zoe, the name represented who she was as his daughter; perhaps she even viewed it as a part of herself. It was hard for Severus to reconcile that first part of her thoughts on the name with his stormy, unhappy memories. He wanted Zoe to have her name, but he did not want her to have the burden of his past mistakes to weigh on her shoulders because of it.

Severus shook his head.

"For now, you will remain Zoe Agnew, but I am open to having this discussion at a later time."

Zoe rolled her eyes at him in annoyance. "Promise?"

Severus inclined his head. "You have my word," he said before setting her with a stern glare. "And don't you roll your eyes at me. That attitude will only result in the loss of your flying privileges whilst at Budhmor Firth."

Zoe wrinkled up her nose in distaste.

* * *

><p>The end of the Christmas holidays seemed to breeze by for Zoe. She had the distinct impression that her father and Minerva were trying to make her last few days before school started as stress-free as possible.<p>

Therefore, in addition to canceling her restriction, her father had given her a lot of freedom to wander about the grounds of Budhmor Firth and to fly her new broom—still under supervision, of course, but he'd been very accommodating any time she'd asked to fly. Seeing as how she'd finished her holiday homework and her father had deemed it acceptable to turn in, the only time she'd been required to buckle down and focus on anything was during her Occlumency lessons.

New Year's Eve was highly enjoyable. Her father had somehow managed to obtain a number of fireworks from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and, although Zoe had been disappointed that he hadn't taken her to the shop with him, she had been in awe as the whizzing, brightly-colored pinwheels and animal-shaped pyrotechnics exploded above her head at midnight, beckoning in the new year.

Overall, Zoe had felt that her final days at Minerva's manor had been good, but she'd been worried for her father—especially the day before term started when he'd gone to the Ministry to talk to Mr. Potter again. He'd left Budhmor Firth that morning with a troubled expression across his brow and a frown upon his lips. She had the distinct impression that he was expecting something horrible to happen at any moment. He seemed exceptionally distant now that there was a looming threat of attack from Death Eaters and more than once she'd walked in on he and Minerva having somewhat heated, low disagreements. They'd tried to be more open with her regarding it all, but Zoe knew there were still bits of information she'd have to find out on her own once she returned to school—perhaps with James's help.

And Zoe hoped the Ministry figured the Death Eater situation out soon. She didn't like the look of foreboding and worry on her father's face.

She also knew it would be rather awkward explaining to Caroline, John, and Glendora about her father—especially since he was far from being anyone's favorite teacher—but she was sure they'd understand, considering everything.

And so, as she packed up her things to return to Hogwarts for the new term, she couldn't help but feel relieved. She knew things would be a bit different now that everyone would know who she was, who her father really was, but she longed for the security the castle promised and she longed to see her friends again. This holiday, after all, had been almost too eventful for her tastes.

* * *

><p><em><strong>In case anyone was curious about the name of Minerva's home, "Budhmor" refers to an actual residential area just east of the actual town of Portree on the Isle of Skye. I once visited Portree and I loved it. It's a beautiful place. "Firth" is a term for a large sea bay in the Scottish language which you will notice Portree sits on, if you were to make use of Google Maps. Firth is also the surname of one of my favorite actors, Colin Firth. :)<strong>_

_**I chose this name for Minerva's home because the area I imagined her living outside of Portree happened to have the kind of terrain I imagined her home to be situated upon. Though, if, again, you Google the area I'm referring to, I envision that Minerva lives even farther from the town center in an area of very low hills and marshy-type land to the east, or northeast of the Budhmor area.**_


	26. Getting Back to Not-So-Normal

_**Hello! I know, I know, it's been over a month since I last posted. I'm awful but, as I have stated before, the chapters are going to start getting heavy and, in addition to being hairy to write, they may take some emotional fortitude on my part and I work three jobs, so emotional fortitude is not something I have in spades at the moment. But, on a lighter note, here's chapter 26! I do hope you enjoy it. I feel Severus may be a tiny bit OOC at small parts of this chapter, but I really think he's trying to be engaging with Zoe, to be wholly present for her, so let me know if it really bothers you at all.**_

**_Enjoy._**

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Back to Not-So-Normal<strong>

Zoe and her father returned to Hogwarts on the morning of the fifth of January hours before the rest of the students were to arrive on the Hogwarts Express.

Once again, Zoe had shown disdain at not being allowed to accompany her friends on the train, but her father had insisted that this was for the best, for he anticipated photographers at King's Cross who were expecting to get more shots of the mysterious professor and his daughter.

Zoe had therefore not fussed too much as they had packed their things at Budhmor Firth and Flooed to Minerva's quarters at Hogwarts before spending the day in her father's office as he did some necessary paperwork and settled back into things. Zoe continued her reading of _Sense and Sensibility_ while lying on her belly on the thick, wool rug, a conjured pillow pushed up under her elbows for comfort.

It was not long after lunch however, that Zoe grew restless.

"Papa, when is everyone else supposed to arrive?" she asked, sitting up and stretching to look at her father over his desk.

He glanced at her through his spectacles briefly before pulling his watch from his pocket and examining it.

"It's only half two," he observed. "The train won't arrive in Hogsmeade for nearly five hours."

Zoe sighed heavily. "I'm bored," she stated moodily.

"You know how I feel about that word," her father admonished flatly, going back to his paperwork. "When there is infinite knowledge to be obtained in this world and equally infinite experiences to be had, you are not allowed to say you are bored."

Zoe made sure her father wasn't watching her before she rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, may I go outside and fly, then?"

"No. I must finish this before dinner."

"May I go to the library?"

"It will not be open until the morning."

"How about the Slytherin common room?"

Her father shook his head. "I do not want you wandering the castle alone."

"But there's a Gobstones set in there. I could bring it back here and we could play."

"Do you not recall my telling you that this paperwork needed to be finished before dinner?" he asked, giving her his raised-eyebrow, annoyed-father look.

"Well, what are you working on? Maybe I could help," she suggested.

Her father shook his head. "I don't think so. I am drawing up new lesson plans for all the years to incorporate more practical, defensive lessons."

Zoe's shoulders slumped. "But there's nothing to _do_," she complained.

"If you're going to whinge, I'm certain I could find some cleaning in here or the classroom to appease your boredom," her father said, still focusing most of his attention on his paperwork.

"No, I'm not _that_ bored," Zoe stated quickly.

"I didn't think so."

Zoe lay back down and reopened her book, conceding that she'd be stuck in her father's office all afternoon with nothing to do. However, she'd barely read through another page before there was a knock on the door.

She jumped up quickly and excitedly and ran to the heavy door, flinging it open before her father could protest. On the other side Professor Lupin and Professor Longbottom stood. Zoe could tell that they were expecting to greet her father at the door, for they seemed confused momentarily until they brought their eye lines down and saw her.

"Ah, Zoe, how are you?" Professor Lupin greeted pleasantly.

"I'm good, sir," Zoe said stepping to the side so that the two visitors could enter. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," he said, coming in and addressing her father, who stood up from his chair. "Good afternoon, Severus."

"Lupin, Longbottom," her father greeted in his typical drawl. He waited then for Professor Lupin to explain his presence.

Lupin stood ill at ease for only a moment before he said: "Neville and I were just doing a last inspection of the castle and, as we were walking by, I thought I'd drop in, see if you were here, and make sure that we were on schedule for this week."

Zoe watched her father incline his head. "As always, your potion will be ready on time."

Professor Lupin nodded. "Excellent. Thank you, Severus. And… I trust the two of you had a good holiday despite the, er, unpleasant aspects of it?"

Zoe's father's expression became stony. "Really, Lupin. The entire wizarding world is well aware of the kind of holiday we have had."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Lupin said. "Dora and I were relieved to hear that you were both safe and Harry told me that he helped you to ward your properties. I do hope that at least eases your mind a little."

"Indeed," was her father's only comment.

It grew silent and uncomfortable again.

Finally, Lupin turned to look at Zoe. "Are you ready for the new term?" he asked.

Zoe nodded, smiling. "I finished all my homework. I hope you—and you, Professor Longbottom—enjoy my essays."

"That's wonderful, Zoe, and I'm sure we will be riveted to your essays, but I was referring more to whether you were excited to see your friends and get back to Hogwarts life? Have you found yourself craving the house elves' cooking, perhaps?"

"Oh!" Zoe said. "Very much, but it's hard to feel excited right now," she sighed a bit melodramatically and glanced back at her father. "Papa's holding me hostage in here until the Hogwarts Express arrives. He doesn't want me to wander by myself."

As her father gave her an annoyed glare, Professor Longbottom let out an amused grunt and Professor Lupin's eyes filled with mirth as a smile enveloped his features.

"Well, I'm sure he has good reason," Professor Lupin said, moving toward the door. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

Zoe nodded as she observed Professor Longbottom hesitating in the doorway. He stood a bit taller after a moment and looked at her father across from him.

"If there's anything I—or Hannah—can do for you, Professor, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

Zoe's head whipped around to look at her father. Though she hadn't known there to be any hostility between the two professors, over her first term, she'd had the distinct feeling that neither cared much for the other. Of course, her father had usually seemed rather indifferent to Professor Longbottom, but the latter had always seemed to act as if there were words that had been left unsaid or that there was some sort of unfinished business there. It was sometimes downright awkward to be in both of their companies—as it was now.

Zoe squirmed, looking between the two, until her father finally inclined his head, and Professor Longbottom left, closing the door lightly behind him.

"Who's Hannah?" she asked immediately.

"Professor Longbottom's wife," her father responded, returning to his seat. "Another former student of mine. She's the innkeeper of The Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh. Why would Professor Longbottom and his wife offer to…er, do anything…if you asked them?"

Her father shook his head. "I imagine they feel they owe us in some way…or owe _me_," he said a bit distractedly. After a moment, he looked up at Zoe as if he had been lost in thought and only just then broken out of it.

She didn't know what he meant by Professor Longbottom feeling like he owed her father in some way and she was somewhat wary of inquiring further about it for it seemed to trouble him. Therefore, she moved to take up her place on the floor once more, as her father sat back in his chair and removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes.

"Come sit down, Zoe. We need to talk over a few things."

"Like what?" Zoe asked, her brow furrowed.

Her father took his hand away from his eyes and set her with an exasperated, but stern gaze.

"Perhaps once you do as I've asked, you'll find out," he retorted smartly.

"All right, all right," Zoe mumbled as she moved to the chair across from her father.

He pulled himself toward the desk and placed his hands atop it. After an extended pause, he began talking.

"You know that Hogwarts is very safe, practically a fortress," he began. "Yes?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes, I know that."

Her father inclined his head again and took a deep breath. "Nonetheless, dangers have arisen in our world, dangers that I had hoped were long in the past. These are threats that may make our everyday lives quite different—as you've already experienced to a degree."

Her father paused then. He looked away from her for a moment. He had that look on his face that Zoe recognized as conflicted. He was negotiating with himself on how to tell her something.

He locked his black eyes with hers.

"I need you to promise me— No, I need you to _swear_ to me that during this upcoming term, you will use caution in everything that you do."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Of course, Papa," she said simply. "I try to be careful all the time."

"Yes…" her father said in such a way that Zoe figured he didn't agree with her on that one. "However, I am asking for _more_ vigilance on your part. I want you to be cautious of who you speak with, who you tell certain things. Do not provoke any other student into duels or brawls—"

"But, Papa, I _told you_, I don't _try_ to—" Zoe began childishly to interject.

"Zoe," her father said quietly then. It hadn't been harsh in the slightest, but it had halted her protest and, somehow, that singular word—her own name—had conveyed that this was a serious conversation and her father wanted her to listen and listen sharp.

They were both quiet for a beat but when Zoe got the impression that it was okay to speak again, she did.

"Do you think something's going to happen here at Hogwarts…like what happened at home?" she asked softly, looking up at her father through her eyelashes.

He looked down at his hands briefly and shook his head. He shifted his gaze back to her.

"That isn't what I'm saying and it is not my aim to alarm you. Merely to make you more alert," he said. "If you are taunted in the coming weeks, I want you to ignore it and come speak with me or Minerva—even Professor Lupin will suffice if he's available and we are not. I cannot keep you from the grounds without reasonable cause, but if you wander there, be sure you are never alone—stay with your friends, with people you trust, at all times. And for Merlin's sake, _stay out of the Forbidden Forest._"

Zoe felt a sudden surge of defiance coming to the surface of her emotions. Nothing her father had said was that limiting, but it seemed like he was always giving her more and more rules to follow. She was starting to feel suffocated. She understood his worry for she never wanted to experience the horrors of what had happened at Spinner's End ever again, but they were at _Hogwarts_ now. Hogwarts was safe. It was the safest place anywhere. Why was he still restricting her so much?

All of this thinking caused the words that came out of her mouth to be quite terse when she spoke them.

"It's like I'm a prisoner."

Her father's gaze became angry then. "It's _nothing_ _like_," he said fiercely, his teeth gritted in agitation. He rose from his chair huffily and stalked to the window.

Zoe watched him for a moment but eventually looked away. That hadn't been the right way to say how she felt; it had only irritated him. "I just feel like there are always new rules all the time," she complained. "There are always more things you don't want me to do when I did them before and I was fine."

Her father let out a heavy sigh and Zoe was surprised to hear the timbre of his voice become much more understanding as he turned from the window to face her.

"These are not new rules, Zoe. They are a reiteration of things you already know. I am merely imploring you to use the head you have on your shoulders should strange, hostile, or unordinary situations arise—and they may or may not arise in the current climate. I am asking you to be more attentive to your environment and to anything you say. That is all."

Zoe looked back to her father then. He seemed tired and she didn't want to put any more undue stress on him by being bullheaded—not after the holiday they'd had—so, somewhat reluctantly, she nodded.

"I will," she said and she genuinely meant it.

Her father gave a single nod and moved back toward his desk. "You may go back to your reading now. Unless you have any questions?"

Zoe shook her head and stood, moving to the spot she'd left on the floor, but she looked back to her father after a moment's thought. "Papa… the floor's uncomfortable."

Her father smirked briefly and pulled his wand from his robes. With a wave, the hard, wooden chair she'd been sitting on turned into a comfortable armchair, perfect for reading.

Zoe picked up her book and settled contentedly into the armchair.

* * *

><p>Severus looked up from his paperwork to his daughter. It hadn't taken long for her to doze off once the chair had been transfigured. He supposed he should be grateful. At least this way, she hadn't complained her way through the remaining few hours before she could join her housemates in the Great Hall for dinner.<p>

Severus sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. Though he'd gotten the distinct impression that Zoe hadn't agreed to extra vigilance for her own sake, but for his, he would take whatever he could get.

The fact of the matter was that, yes, Hogwarts was safe—mostly—but it was not infallible. And, especially now that the greater wizarding world knew who she was, there would be dangers from within the castle's walls and he simply couldn't be with her every minute of every day. He needed her cooperation.

He understood her frustration, however. He wasn't ecstatic about any of this either. He wanted her to have a worry-free childhood, to be able to roam the grounds of her school carefree. He wanted for her to be blissfully oblivious of the pressing dangers of the greater wizarding world for as long as possible so as to keep her from bitterness and cynicism for, genetically, she was likely to be prone to it enough later in life.

However, life was doing a very good job of laughing in his face on every count and so, caution would rule them for the time being.

He pulled his pocket watch from his robes and read it. Standing and stretching, he took his glasses from his face, set them upon the desk, and made his way to his daughter's chair. He nudged her shoulder to wake her.

The girl stirred and her eyes—a contented lavender shade—settled on his face.

"It's time," he said. "The students should be coming into the grounds by now."

Zoe stretched out like a cat, giving an uncouth groan as she rose to her feet. She threw her Hogwarts robes on and followed him to the door.

As they made their way across the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Zoe pushed herself into his side, wrapping her arms around one of his. She leaned her head against his arm.

"Papa, what if my friends don't understand?"

Severus paused in his stride and looked to his daughter. He had every intention of telling her that if they couldn't understand and accept her despite who her father was, then they were not her real friends to begin with and she'd be better off but, as he looked down into the eyes that had changed back to her natural dark blue, something completely different had issued from his lips.

"They will," he said confidently.

Zoe gave him a weak smile and the two left to make their way to the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>Zoe looked anxiously at Glendora, John, and Caroline. She had waited outside the Great Hall before dinner and, after greeting Lottie, thankful that she would be there for support, she had gathered the three Ravenclaws together to apologize for not telling them who her father was. She'd barely started before Caroline cut her off.<p>

"Zoe, it's okay," she said kindly. "You don't need to apologize."

"Really?" Zoe asked. "You aren't angry?"

"No," John responded. "We, er… we kind of knew already."

Zoe's eyes grew wide. "You did? How?"

"We had an idea, anyway," Caroline clarified, looking to Lottie for reassurance. "It was the way you acted when people would say awful things about him and his classes. It was also kind of obvious the way he would always seem to pull you away to talk to you privately. He didn't do that with any other students. And…there are other things…like the look on your face when you're annoyed—it's just like Professor Snape's look. And…well…you just kind of look like him. Not always, but we can see it there sometimes. The articles in the newspaper just showed that our guess was right."

Zoe nodded, flabbergasted. "You saw the _Daily Prophet_?" she asked, wincing.

"Who hasn't?" Glendora asked. "You've been all over it all week."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I have," Zoe said sheepishly, looking down at her shoes. "So… er, do you all _care_ that my father is, well, who he is?"

She looked up at her friends through her eyelashes, mainly focusing her attention on John, who'd always been the most vocal about his dislike of their Defense professor. Caroline also shot a disapproving look at John who, despite his darker skin, seemed to blush.

The boy shrugged after a moment. "We all have people in our family that are difficult. Look at my brother Dominic…," he said a bit flippantly. "We like _you_, Zoe. Your dad is… well, he's your dad and, even if he is bloody unfair sometimes, we won't ever hold it against you. And…I'm sorry for things I said before when I didn't know. I'll try to keep it to myself from now on."

Zoe smiled. "Thanks, John. And, I know how he can be. I grew up with him, remember?"

Caroline, Glendora, and Lottie giggled, while John gave Zoe a grateful half-smile.

"Zoe, you and Professor Snape are all right, aren't you?" Caroline asked then. "We were so worried for you when we heard about the attack. Mum and Dad were so angry. They said that after everything your dad did for the wizarding world, he didn't deserve to be tormented anymore."

Zoe nodded. "We're all right. Papa managed to fight them off and then we Flooed to my godmother's."

"Professor Snape fought off all those Death Eaters? By _himself_?" John asked. He seemed impressed as Zoe nodded.

"My dad always told me he was a great wizard, but I didn't think he could fight off six Death Eaters by himself… I guess that's why he's the Defense professor."

"Six?!" Zoe exclaimed. "I didn't know there were that many."

"That's what the _Prophet_ said," Lottie suddenly piped up.

"I only saw two," Zoe said quietly, reflecting on that night.

"So…is it true that your mum is that Dark witch, Bellatrix Lestrange?" Glendora asked then.

Caroline turned her head to look at Glendora, shock on her face, while John elbowed the brown-haired girl.

Zoe wrinkled her brow at the reactions. "No. I don't even know who that is. You know my mum was a Muggle."

"Right, yeah," Glendora said. "And that one article said you were too young to have been Bellatrix's. She was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was," John said. "But shut it, Glendora. Zoe doesn't want a rumor going around that her mum was a Death Eater."

"Sorry," Glendora said. "I'm just trying to get it all straight. Muggleborn, remember?"

"It's all right," Zoe said. "But, do you mind if we don't talk about any of this right now?"

A sudden wave of intense anxiety took over Zoe's mind then and she knew that if she allowed herself to think about the attack or the fallout from it for too long, that she'd probably get emotional. She didn't want that when she still had to sit in the Great Hall for dinner. As it was, she was already getting curious looks and conspicuous murmuring from students as they passed her on their way through the large doors.

When the group of friends entered and took their seats at their respective house tables, Zoe couldn't help but steel a glance to the High Table to look for her father. He was immersed in a conversation with Professor Goode, but he seemed to have been waiting for her to enter as well and, as their eyes met, Zoe felt her anxiety melt away. They were at Hogwarts again and hopefully everything was going to get back to normal—mostly.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

The next morning, having already dealt with stares and whispers the night before, it became very obvious that things were decidedly _not_ normal. Barely ten minutes into the meal, a number of owls—many more than usual—flew into the Great Hall to deliver the post. Students chattered all around with confusion as the birds swooped in to distribute their letters and packages to their recipients.

Zoe had been happily tucking in to a crumpet with jam when an eagle owl landed directly in front of her, holding in its beak a deep, red-colored envelope. Zoe didn't even have the chance to grab the letter before dozens more birds of all different sizes began to land on the table, benches, and floor all around her, sitting on the shoulders and atop the heads of students and upsetting bowls of yogurt and scrambled eggs.

"Zoe, what's going on?" Lottie asked anxiously beside her, shooing an owl away from her sausages.

"I don't know. Surely these can't all be for me."

"Well, that one landed first and the letter has your name on it…" Lottie said, pointing to the red envelope.

Zoe reached for it and just as she had put her fingers onto the crisp, red parchment, a hand clamped down on her wrist, pulling it back. But it was too late; her touch had made the letter start to hiss and smolder, causing the owl to drop it and flap back up into the sky.

Zoe looked up into her father's face behind her. He looked angry and alarmed, but she didn't get the chance to ask him what the matter was, for he pulled her up off the bench and began quickly towing her out of the Great Hall. It was rather embarrassing with everyone staring at them, but Zoe wasn't really concerned with that when, just as they exited, she heard her own name—Zoe Snape—boom loudly across the dining hall followed by a slew of profanities.

Without a word, her father swiftly crossed the Entrance Hall and entered into a small classroom there that was primarily used for storage, all while the voice echoed around, screaming obscenities and calling Zoe awful names, cursing her birth, and speculating on her blood status. By the time her father had managed to close the door and put up a sound-proofing charm to block out the vulgarities, tears were rolling down Zoe's face unhindered. She hadn't understood everything the letter was screaming, but she definitely understood the implication that the letter writer not only disliked her, but felt her unworthy of living, a mar upon the name wizard.

Her father stood with his head leaning against the door for several minutes as Zoe watched him through her tear-soaked eyelashes. What had just happened? Why would someone she didn't even know send her something so awful?

Sniffling and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robes, Zoe walked forward then to stand beside her father. Without looking at her, he looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"You shouldn't have had to hear that," he said lowly. It almost sounded as if he was saying it to himself.

"What's going on?" Zoe asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Her father stepped away from the door and looked down on her.

"Do not open any post you may receive," he said softly. He pulled his handkerchief from his robes and handed it to her. "Especially not the Howlers."

"_That_ was a Howler?"

"Yes. You are familiar with them?"

Zoe shook her head. "Not really. John said his Mum sent him a Howler at summer camp once for sneaking in some Muggle fireworks and setting them off as a prank right before wake-up call."

Her father smirked lightly, but grew silent.

"Do you think it's over yet?" Zoe asked after a moment.

Her father reached forward and opened the door. Instantly, they were bombarded with more cursing, but this time it sounded as if multiple letters had erupted in angry diatribes. He quickly closed the door again—her question having been answered.

He moved away from her and crossed to take a seat on an old student desk. He ran a hand over his face.

"I should have anticipated this," he said, seemingly to himself again, as Zoe walked to stand beside him. "I should have prepared you for the possibility of this."

"Papa, why would someone send me a Howler?" she asked.

"For the same reason we talked about before. It would seem that there are people in our world who have found the need to voice their displeasure at our mere existence."

"Because of your involvement in the war?"

Her father nodded his head silently.

"It sounded like there were a lot more out there," Zoe observed.

"Hmm… you were understandably too preoccupied to notice the small flock of owls that had settled around me. I had well over a dozen birds with Howlers sitting at the High Table. I'm certain Minerva set them off as we exited just to get them over with before they exploded."

Zoe shook her head. "Sometimes, magic is scary."

Her father smirked again.

"It's certainly never to be taken lightly."

"So everyone else is hearing what those people are shouting at us?"

Her father inclined his head. "There is a spell that will garble the words so that no one but the intended recipient will be able to understand what is said—I'm certain the other professors implemented it for our privacy. However, Howlers are created to voice their message without restraint and at a high volume so as to create a sense of public shame on the addressee. Everyone in the Great Hall is well aware that we are being rebuked, even if they cannot understand what is being said."

Zoe screwed up her face in embarrassment even though she knew she didn't really have anything to be embarrassed about. As her father had said to her before, the problem lay with those who were judging them, not with her.

After a few more minutes ticked by, Zoe looked up at her father as a mortifying thought had occurred to her.

"You'd never send me a Howler, would you, Papa?"

Her father turned his head to look at her, his eyes wide as if he'd never given it much thought.

"I suppose I may give it some consideration if the transgression were to warrant it."

Zoe grimaced. "You probably wouldn't have to send a Howler, actually. If I got into that much trouble, everyone in the castle would hear you telling me off if you just didn't use a sound-proofing charm," she said dryly.

At that comment, her father let out a bark of laughter, which caused Zoe to smile broadly at him, happy that she'd managed to amuse him and lighten the mood a bit.

"Perhaps," he said jovially.

His features sobered after only a minute or so, though, and he stood to walk to the door, which he opened. There was nothing but the general murmuring of the students in the Great Hall. He turned back to her, beckoning her out of the classroom.

"Do not concern yourself with this," he said as Zoe followed him out of the room. "I will work with Minerva to avert our respective…_fan_ _mail_…to screeners at the Ministry."

Zoe nodded and exited with her father, well aware that they were likely to reenter the dining chamber to a cacophony of whispers regarding what everyone had just heard.

* * *

><p>The first week of the new term continued. Despite having sorted the issue of sordid post with only a single, tersely-worded letter to Harry Potter, Severus still had to put up with whispers and veiled disdain from various students every day. Regarding his relationship with his daughter, some seemed to assume he was not entitled to or deserving of any of it, regardless of having played a key role in her emergence into this world, and having raised and nurtured the girl thus far.<p>

Others, however, were quick to give him a reassuring smile and assure that he hear them say something encouraging or uplifting, some even choosing to comment on Zoe's temperament or intelligence within earshot of him. He tried not to find it disheartening that no student had dared to say anything considerate to his face. At least his fellow teachers had been openly sympathetic; many professors had approached him in the staff lounge or Great Hall to convey their support over the first week.

It was apparent within a day where lines had been drawn on the issue, however and, despite Severus generally feeling as if it was nobody's bloody business but his own, he found himself questioning why he felt as if he cared what these small-minded students believed about him. After all, many of them were just spouting the opinions of their parents, who were equally as ignorant to any form of true events or, at the very least, biased in one way or another.

Even after all these years, he knew that many within the wizarding world did not trust him. Even families with no ties to either side of the great battle all those years ago, questioned his true allegiance or were skeptical of him in one way or another. There were many who deemed him a hero, a true warrior for the rights of all magical folk, however. They thought the idea of him with a daughter was romantic and just—an opportunity for Severus to be happy after so many years of turmoil and heartache (or so one particular article in _The Daily Prophet_ had read).

Others, however, saw him as a manipulator, a once-servant to the Dark Lord who had somehow brainwashed the real hero, Harry Potter, into vouching for him and, thus, keeping himself out of prison. Those were the individuals who saw Zoe as some sort of spawn of pure evil, a child born as nothing more than a tool for future destruction of their world. They believed him to be an undeserving father, incapable of raising a child who could ever possibly be an asset to respectable, wizarding society.

Finally, there were the true Death Eaters who knew the real story, knew he had been loyal to Dumbledore during the entirety of the second war, knew of his aid to Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They had a vendetta against him and, by association, Zoe, because he had escaped death—their version of justice. These witches and wizards were the real threat to him and Zoe. They did not see the Snapes as talking points within a politically-charged opinion column, but as legitimate risks to their ideology and their view of what the wizarding world should be.

Keeping all this in mind, Severus had seen Zoe in the corridors half a dozen times over the past week, usually accompanied by the Wickham girl and engaging in conversation, but her eyes had been melancholy both in spirit and in color—the telltale green seeming to be the only color she dawned since the end of their holidays.

He knew, of course, that the jibes and sneers were not directed exclusively at himself, that his daughter was dealing with the cruelty of people as acutely as he was—probably more blatantly than he was as well. But there was little he could do about it aside from intimidating his students into silence and dishing out detentions whenever he heard an ill-natured comment. Opinions, after all, were not something he could entirely quell. And he'd worked nearly his whole career to combat ignorance and all-around stupidity in his students, but that had proved as impossible as teaching manners to a Cornish pixie.

However, he had students (mainly those with ties to Death Eaters) who would likely not have much downtime for the foreseeable future due to the detentions he'd dispensed. Tallulah Culpepper, the third-year daughter of one of the Death Eaters who had attacked his home had had the audacity to infer that she was sorry they did not have a new Defense teacher with the new term. She had gained three weekends in a row of detentions with Severus, lost the privilege of her next Hogsmeade visit, and, additionally, been assigned a thousand lines of _'I will not wish the untimely death of my Defense professor and be dunderheaded enough to voice that sentiment to his face'_.

Despite that, Severus still had hope that the girl would not fall into the Culpepper legacy. Thirteen, after all, was still impressionable and, perhaps through their detention sessions, he could imprint upon her a more acceptable set of values. He liked to think he'd had some influence on Draco Malfoy all those years ago; perhaps Miss Culpepper would take to a new perspective with a bit of guidance as well.

Zoe's demeanor is what had truly troubled him over the first week, however, so when the eleven-year-old burst through the door of his office in a whirlwind of excited smiles and Slytherin robes just as the breakfast hour had begun on the morning of the ninth, he'd been wholly relieved to see that she was managing the combined disdain and reverence of her classmates in stride.

"Happy birthday, Papa!" she exclaimed, latching her arms around him with nearly enough force and glee to knock him over.

Severus evened out his balance and placed his hand on the back of her head affectionately as she smiled up at him.

"Thank you and good morning," he responded. "You know you're supposed to knock before entering your professor's private office, Zoe."

"I know," she said without an ounce of remorse. "But I wanted to see you before class. It's your birthday!"

"Yes, I'm aware," he stated as Zoe pulled away from him to cross to his desk. She hopped up onto the top of it and lifted her feet to set them in the seat of his chair. She ignored the look of disapproval he directed her way.

"Do you want your present now or after dinner?" she asked.

Severus arched an eyebrow, vaguely curious as to what Minerva had managed to obtain for Zoe to give to him this year.

"Now, I suppose, since you're clearly dying to see me open it."

Zoe grinned as she leaned over to open up her rucksack. After a moment, she held up a green paper-wrapped parcel that was clearly a book and handed it to him. Severus took it from her and lifted his wand, expertly vanishing the paper and ribbon.

"Aw, Papa, you're supposed to rip it," Zoe chided.

Severus looked at her annoyed face. "This method is much more efficient."

"But it's not any _fun_," Zoe complained.

Severus smirked. They had this same exchange on every one of his birthdays.

He looked down to the book in his hands and frowned.

"_Modern Magical Defense for Above-Average Wizards by Ares Bogg_," he read aloud.

_What is this rubbish?_

His gaze moved back to Zoe, incredulously. The girl was clearly trying to stifle a grin. It didn't last long before she had erupted into peals of giggling.

"You should see your face," she said. "The cover is charmed. Minerva did it for me."

Severus raised a single, stern eyebrow, though he was far from unamused. "Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth. Are you telling me that you have just pranked your professor and Head of House with mediocre literature?"

Zoe nodded, still giggling.

"Yes, and it worked."

Severus inclined his head.

"Very bold," he conceded. Then he gave his daughter a playful smirk. "Nothing an afternoon of cauldron scrubbing won't curb, I'm sure."

Zoe merely continued to grin, knowing he was joking.

He took his wand in hand again and tapped the imposter cover of the book, which immediately melted away, revealing the true one: _A Comprehensive Guide to Modern Tactics of Magical Defense by Julius Coriolanus Tweed._

"Now _that's_ more like it," he said with satisfaction, opening the cover and scanning the preface.

"So… How old are you now?"

"A year older than I was last year," Severus stated without skipping a beat as he continued to rifle through his new book.

"No, really. How old?"

Severus, having donned his reading glasses, looked over them to his daughter, deciding to indulge her.

"I am fifty-five—or at least I will be officially in a few hours."

A mischievous gleam took over Zoe's eyes then.

"You're so _old_," she said dramatically.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I imagine I only have between sixty and seventy functioning years left."

Zoe giggled.

"What are we eating for your birthday dinner? We had roast beef with Yorkshire pudding last year."

"I imagine you'll eat whatever is being served in the Great Hall this evening," Severus said, crossing to a cupboard and pulling a small, leather travel bag from it. He walked back to place it on his desk and put his birthday gift inside before looking up to Zoe who had an incredulous look upon her face.

"That's a joke, right? We always have a special dinner together on your birthday."

Severus shook his head. "Unfortunately, it is not a joke. We will have to forgo the dinner this year, for I've just gotten word that the _viola riviniana_ outside of Oslo have started to bloom several weeks early. I must away immediately following the day's classes in order to resupply my stocks for the year."

"What?" Zoe asked. "But we _always_ do this. It's tradition. We can't just cancel it."

"A postponement, then," Severus said, now moving to his bookshelf across the room to look for his encyclopedia of magical plants.

"Why do you have to go this weekend? Why can't you go next weekend?" Zoe whined from behind him.

Severus sent her a brief, annoyed look and turned back to his search.

"You know very well that if I go next weekend, there will likely be nothing left to cultivate. We can have dinner together sometime next week."

"I want to go with you, then."

Severus shook his head. "No. There isn't time enough to follow the process of taking you from school for the weekend and you'd likely fall behind on your homework anyway."

Now Zoe shook her head adamantly. "I wouldn't. And Minerva wouldn't really make you go through the _whole_ process of taking me out."

Severus leveled his daughter with another disapproving look.

"Minerva cannot just make exceptions whenever she wants. She must uphold her integrity in matters of school policy."

"It's not fair," Zoe pouted.

"It's perfectly fair."

The room went silent but for the sound of Severus's rifling. Having found his encyclopedia, he looked back to his daughter. Her face was lined into a deep frown and she was picking at the wood on his desk.

"Oh, Zoe, stop sulking," he said rather tersely, before scanning his bookshelf again and beginning to pull other tomes out. He was growing rather weary of the girl's melodramatics of late. "I shall return on Sunday evening."

"But what about tomorrow? We're supposed to have lessons."

"Your Occlumency lessons will have to be postponed to next week as well."

"But I don't _want_ them to be postponed," she said belligerently.

Severus once again settled his exasperated gaze on his daughter. "_Now_ you wish to have lessons?" he asked. "If I had known all it took was a weekend away to get you to _want_ to have lessons with me, perhaps I would have travelled more frequently earlier in your education."

"You know these lessons are different," Zoe pouted hotly, looking to the floor. "And don't say that. It's an awful thing to say."

Then the girl vaulted off the desk, kicking his chair in her temper so that it rolled away noisily and banged against the wall. She walked swiftly toward the door. Severus laid his books aside quickly and reached for her arm as she strode past him, stopping her.

"Not so fast," he said gruffly.

Zoe looked up at him with defiance and hurt in her tear-filled eyes and his compulsion to scold her for her tantrum died immediately. He suddenly realized that perhaps this wasn't entirely about Occlumency lessons or her want to celebrate his birthday with him. Perhaps, this had more to do with the fact that he was going away for a weekend not long after she'd experienced a trauma and at the end of a week filled with ridicule and unwanted notoriety. The girl probably just didn't want to be left by the only other person in the whole school who understood what she was going through. It made him feel guilty, for sure, but the both of them had to try to get back to a sense of normality. And gathering this particular potions ingredient over a weekend during the winter _was_ their normality.

Severus let go of her arm then, placed his hand on the back of her head instead, and pulled her to him. He didn't wrap his arms around the girl and she didn't attempt to embrace him either, but they stood that way for nearly a minute—her face buried in his robes and his hand weaved into her wavy, dark brown hair.

"If I could take you with me, I would," Severus said quietly after some time. "You know that I would."

He felt Zoe nod her head against his sternum and for some reason all he could think about was how tall the girl was getting. She must have been having a growth spurt recently. He pulled her away from him then.

"I shall return on Sunday evening," he reiterated, the promise to inform her promptly of his return conveyed in his eyes.

"Yes, Papa," the girl said lowly, looking away from him and swiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"You're going to be late for Herbology," he told her. "Take that toast there; you've missed breakfast."

Zoe nodded and walked back to his desk, lifting her rucksack out of the chair and placing it on her shoulder. She snatched the toast from the breakfast tray he'd had delivered before her arrival and turned to leave. When she opened the door, she looked back at Severus.

"Will you get me something from Norway?" she asked sheepishly.

Severus hadn't thought to get her a souvenir, but perhaps it would be a good idea. It would be a small consolation to ease their parting.

"What would you like?" he asked.

Zoe shrugged. "Whatever you think I'll like."

Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Please review! "Don't make me order you." -Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock: Season 1, Episode 3)<strong>_


	27. A Spell Not Intended

_**Look at that: two chapters in one week! Well, this one is considerably shorter than many previous chapters, but if I didn't publish it as it is, it would likely have been over 20,000 words when combined with the next chapter to come. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it.**_

* * *

><p><strong>A Spell Not Intended<strong>

Without her Occlumency lessons on Saturday, Zoe realized early on that she had a full day ahead of her to catch up with her friends and just to relax with them after what seemed like the longest, most draining holidays ever.

She hadn't awoken too early that morning, but one glance to Lottie was all it took for Zoe to know that her best friend was going to have a lie in. Therefore, Zoe dressed in the cold air of her dungeon dormitory and exited. As she crossed the common room, three older students sitting close to the fire turned to stare at her.

"That's her," Zoe heard one of the boys say to the other two Slytherins. "The mini Snape."

"Are you sure?" the lone girl asked. Zoe could feel their eyes on her as she walked to the notice board to check for any updates—as she usually did in the mornings.

"'Course I'm sure. There were photographs in _The Daily Prophet_."

"That other first year—that one's friend—seems more the part," the final one spoke up. "You know… greasy black hair and all."

Zoe wrinkled her nose as the students giggled behind her. Compared to a lot of the whispers and jeers she'd heard in the last week, making fun of her father's hair was rather tame. At least these students didn't seem to have a political opinion on her and her father's relationship. Besides, her father's hair wasn't actually greasy. Though she could see how it could be perceived as such—it was rather sleek-looking. But if anyone were to touch his hair, as she'd had, they'd feel that it was actually quite clean and soft and practically impervious to frizz.

Lottie's hair was similar, though much thicker than her father's. It was rather comical that these students thought that Lottie and their Defense professor could be related simply because they had the same color hair. Lottie's fine features were a far cry from the angular attributes of her father and, though Zoe didn't entirely resemble him too much either, she had definitely inherited his high cheekbones and intense, doe-shaped eyes. Lottie looked nothing like him.

Allowing their gossip to slip off her back, Zoe left the common room on her way to breakfast.

When she entered the Great Hall and started toward the Slytherin table, someone called out to her from across the room, which was still mostly empty.

Zoe turned to see James Potter, flanked on either side by Louis Weasley and Remy Frakes, standing up on his bench, waving her over. Zoe looked around her. For the most part, the few other students in the room were ignoring him, used to James's antics, she supposed, but Zoe did notice that Minerva—earlier to breakfast than normal for a Saturday—was eyeing her goddaughter curiously.

Zoe gave a small smile to the Headmistress and then walked to the Gryffindor table.

"Er, good morning," she said awkwardly to the boys.

"Sit with us," James said immediately, indicating the bench across from him.

Again, Zoe looked around. "Is that allowed?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Remy asked. "Boyfriends and girlfriends from different houses sit together all the time. Why shouldn't friends from different houses be able to sit together if they want?"

Zoe shrugged as Louis gave his input.

"Maybe she's just worried that her father won't let her sit with dunderheaded Gryffindors," he said scathingly before taking a bite of sausage.

Zoe narrowed his eyes. "He wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't forbid it," she corrected. "Though he might ask me why I'd want to… Anyway, you can't _all_ be dunderheads."

"He's prejudiced," Louis said.

"He is not," Zoe defended, though she knew that wasn't entirely true. Her father _was_ prejudiced, though she wasn't entirely sure why that was.

"Sure he is. He's a bully toward Gryffindors because when he was a student he— _oof_!"

Louis stopped talking abruptly and looked to James, who'd apparently elbowed his cousin in the ribs. James gave Louis a severe frown—much different than the happy-go-lucky look he normally had on his face—and Louis went back to his breakfast.

"Will you sit with us?" James asked.

"I don't think Louis wants me to," Zoe observed.

"He doesn't care," James said instantly, speaking for the older boy.

Zoe looked back to the Slytherin table. Lottie hadn't arrived, so she took a seat at the Gryffindor table and tucked into some toast and cereal.

"So… was it scary?" Remy asked out of the blue. When Zoe looked up at him, he elaborated. "You know, being attacked by Death Eaters."

Zoe looked to James who, although looking guilty about it, seemed genuinely curious as well. She hadn't really talked too much about the incident at Spinner's End, aside from the talk she'd had with her father regarding it. She hadn't even been very open with Lottie.

But something in these Gryffindors' expressions gave Zoe the impression that they wouldn't judge her or pity her. After all, James's dad was the Head Auror at the Ministry; he probably understood firsthand what it was like to have your father in grave danger and feel helpless to assist him.

Zoe looked down to her cereal. "Erm…yeah, it was. It was really scary. I didn't know what to do."

Remy merely nodded seriously.

"It was weird to see your dad in my kitchen after it happened," James said conversationally.

"Professor Snape came to _your_ house?" Remy asked. James nodded.

"Yeah, he showed up to talk to Dad about the attack… but, it's weird to see your professor outside school. It's like…seeing a mermaid walk on land."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. That didn't seem like an apt comparison at all, but it seemed help Remy to understand, so she didn't say anything.

"Anyway, I bet you're a bit overwhelmed with the attention," James said to Zoe. "Dad said I should be supportive. Albus, Lily, and I have been in the _Prophet_ more times that we can count, so we know how you feel. So… er, I guess if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me…if you want."

James suddenly seemed to grow uncomfortable as Zoe stared at him. After a moment, she nodded.

"Thanks," she said, surprised. It was nice of James to offer such a thing for she hadn't expected it.

But maybe he was just doing it because Mr. Potter told him to? After all, her own father had said more than once that James was a troublemaker and very selfish. That didn't seem like the kind of person to offer to bend an ear.

"Why have you been in the newspaper so much?" Zoe asked curiously.

"Why?" Louis asked harshly, joining the conversation again. He almost seemed offended that Zoe would ask such a thing. "His dad's Harry Potter, isn't he?"

Zoe could feel a flush creeping up over her neck and cheeks. She suddenly got the impression that there was something she didn't know—again.

"Yes, I know he is. But… I still don't really understand. Why is everyone so fascinated? I mean, Papa and I are just normal. We aren't that interesting. I just thought you might know why everyone cares so much."

"Are you kidding?" Louis asked.

"No…" Zoe said cautiously.

"Do you not know about Voldemort and Harry Potter and the prophecy and the Elder Wand and all that?"

"I know there was a war before we were born and that James's father and uncles and a lot of other people fought against Voldemort because he was a Dark wizard. What's the prophecy and the Elder Wand?"

Louis and Remy's jaws both dropped as they stared at her.

"Seriously? So you don't know about Professor Snape being a— _oof_!"

Once again, James had elbowed Louis in the ribs. He glared at his cousin. "Granddad said to keep your mouth shut, Louis," he reprimanded. "It's not our place."

"What's not your place?" Zoe asked. She was really confused.

James squirmed as he looked back to her, ignoring the glare Louis was directing his way.

"It's not our place to tell you about the past or to tell you anything about the war—or anything about your dad."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, but that statement got her thinking.

She knew that there were things her father hadn't told her—she'd been angry with him more than once that year about it—and that there were things that she knew others knew about him because they'd known him before she was born. And James had said he was in history books, but what were they keeping from her? What sort of history were they privy to that she hadn't been told?

Her father had been more honest with her recently in telling her that there were people that didn't like him because of his stance during the war and he'd told her the general gist of what had gone on all those years ago, but there was clearly much more.

Still, why was James acting so weird about it? Was it some sort of secret?

"It's all right, you can tell me," she said to the boys.

James shook his head. "We shouldn't. You won't want to hear it from us."

Zoe opened her mouth to tell him differently, but she was cut off.

"Zoe, why are you sitting at the Gryffindor table?" Caroline asked behind her.

"James invited me," Zoe said, turning on her bench to look up to her Ravenclaw friend.

"Oh. Hey, James," Caroline said to the boy across from her. "Caleb was impressed with your save at Quidditch practice yesterday."

James looked indignant. "We _knew_ the Hufflepuff team was out there spying on us! Where were they hiding? Under the stands?"

Caroline smirked and shrugged.

"We're going to kill them next week anyway," James said, shrugging it off.

Everyone grew silent for several seconds then.

"Well, good seeing you, James," Caroline said. "Come on, Zoe, John wants to get everyone together to compare Christmas gifts."

Zoe looked back at James, who gave her a sympathetic gaze. She could tell he felt guilty about once again putting the bee in her bonnet regarding her father, but she wouldn't hold it against him. She had already vowed to do some research on the subject in the library and she still intended to do so.

The morning had ended up being dreary and cold, so the group of friends had stayed inside playing Exploding Snap and comparing the Christmas gifts they had received—just as John had wanted. Of course, they'd all agreed that Zoe's broomstick far surpassed everyone else's presents, including Lottie's. She had been given an open-ended ticket for an aeroplane to go anywhere in the world that summer that she wanted to go. She'd described how she'd chosen Greece and how she and her father (who worked often) would go for two whole weeks—just the two of them.

As the afternoon had pressed on, the sun had come out and, despite the cold, Zoe, Lottie, and John had bundled up and ventured to the grounds while Caroline and Glendora elected to stay behind, both to write their essays for Potions that week.

While outside, the friends had walked around the lake, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive giant squid. When that had proved fruitless, they competed to see who could skip rocks the farthest upon the surface of the water.

To everyone's surprise, Lottie had won that particular contest. She'd grinned broadly at John's abashed face before confessing that she had a pond and an unlimited supply of flat, smooth stones on the property at her home and that rock-skipping was something of a Wickham family pastime, something they took pride in.

As the sun had started to set, they had made their way to the Memorial Grove, running between the evenly-spaced trees playing a game of tag to keep warm.

That is, until they were joined.

"Look, it's Little Snape and her little friends," Abigail Mulciber stated from the edge of the grove flanked by Cecilia Aaron and Persimmon Welch. Her statement caused Zoe, Lottie, and John to pause almost instantly.

"What do you want, Mulciber?" John asked brashly, coming to stand somewhat protectively beside Zoe.

Abigail merely shrugged as Cecilia stepped forward in their group. She leveled her eyes directly at Zoe.

"Think you're mighty now, don't you?" she said. "Daddy's a professor so you can just do whatever you want at school?"

"I don't think that," Zoe said matter-of-factly.

Cecilia seemed to ignore her. "We should have known you were connected to him in some way," she stated. "My sister said that back in the day, Snape never would have suspended her for what she did. He knew that Muggleborns and blood-traitors always got just what they deserved, but since you're his daughter and Wickham's your friend, I guess you get special treatment."

"My father knows that everyone should be treated with respect no matter what their blood," Zoe said instantly in his defense.

"That's just it, isn't it?" Cecilia said, sneering. "They shouldn't be… My father says he's a turncoat."

"Your father's daft," Zoe said without thinking, though she didn't regret it until Cecilia pulled out her wand and pointed it directly at her.

"Want to say that again?" Cecilia asked, taking a step forward, her eyes narrowed maliciously.

Zoe looked to each of her sides where Lottie and John were standing defensively, but hadn't drawn their own wands.

She shook her head.

"Just leave us alone, Cecilia. We weren't bothering you."

"You always bother me," Cecilia stated nonchalantly. "Your mere presence annoys me."

"Well, that's your problem," John said before Zoe could, though she'd thought the same thing.

"Shut it, Thomas, nobody asked for your opinion," Persimmon piped up then.

"Nobody asked for yours," Lottie said bravely beside Zoe.

"Mudbloods aren't allowed to speak," Abigail retorted, taking an intimidating step toward Lottie.

That's when everyone else's wands came out. John was the first to draw his, followed quickly by Persimmon and Abigail, then Lottie. Zoe had refrained, though her hand was clutched around the hilt of her griffin wand deep in the pocket of her cloak.

"Don't call her that!" John shouted aggressively, causing harmless blue sparks to issue from the tip of his wand.

"Why not?" said Cecilia. "It's what she is—a filthy Mudblood. My father told me so. Even her nobility can't clean away that stench."

Zoe looked at John, who was breathing heavily with rage now. She put her free hand on his arm, pulling him back slightly.

"We aren't going to duel with you," Zoe said, addressing the other first year girls. "That's stupid. We'll just get into trouble."

"As if you care," Cecilia said, snorting. "You've got Daddy wrapped around your little finger. He would never be angry with you for dueling, would he?"

Now it was Zoe's turn to laugh without amusement. "Show's how much you know."

"Stop calling me stupid!" Cecilia shouted.

"I didn't," Zoe stated.

"Did so!"

With that, sparks also issued from Cecilia's wand—enough to startle Zoe into pulling her own wand out for defense. They were a bit brighter than those that had come from John's and it was enough, apparently, to alert the attention of several other students who'd been walking toward the castle from the Quidditch pitch.

"Oi! Put your wands down!" Rosalie West ordered as she pulled her hair back to reveal her Slytherin prefect's badge.

None of the first years moved, they merely glared at each other as older students milled around the edge of the grove, watching the scene play out. Another prefect—Olivia Rote from Ravenclaw—stepped forward to stand between the two small groups.

"You kids had better do as she says," Olivia warned. "Lukas is running to get a professor and they aren't going to be happy if you all start firing off hexes."

Zoe looked from Olivia to Rosalie and back to Cecilia, who hadn't taken her eyes off her this whole time. She desperately wanted to do as the prefects said and lower her wand—especially before any professor arrived on the scene—but the look in her nemesis' eyes was malicious and something in Zoe was giving her the compulsion to stay on her guard.

"What is this all about?" Rosalie asked, looking to Lottie.

"We were playing tag—Zoe, John, and I—when those three came and started bothering us," Lottie explained.

For their part, Cecilia, Persimmon, and Abigail didn't deny that portion of the story.

"Then what?" Rosalie encouraged.

"Then they said some really mean things and…," Lottie said. "I…I don't know. It just got heated. Zoe had—"

"Everyone put your wands away immediately," a commanding voice said from the edge the grove.

Zoe's eyes, for the first time in minutes, strayed from Cecilia and to her Transfiguration professor. Professor Lupin looked drained of energy, as if he'd been ill and was only now recovering, but he seemed determined to get to the bottom of this particular altercation.

"What's going on here?"

Nobody spoke at first, then it seemed like everyone started to talk at once. Cecilia and Persimmon instantly started to lay blame on John's eagerness to pull his wand and Zoe's biting tongue while Zoe and her group of friends attempted to explain that they'd been innocently playing when the other girls had come upon them and that Cecilia had been the first to arm herself. Rosalie, meanwhile, tried to describe calmly to the professor what she had seen before intervening.

All this was enough to make the normally docile, soft-spoken professor raise his voice.

"Enough!" he stated and all explanations instantly ceased.

"Now," he began, calmer. "It is quite cold out here. So, if the relevant parties will please accompany me to my office, we will talk this through there."

He looked to the prefects, silently commanding them to usher everyone involved back into the castle.

Rosalie took a step forward, using as much intimidation as she could to get the Slytherin girls to comply. But, just as Cecilia turned to follow the group, she locked eyes with Zoe once again and grumbled under her breath:

"Everyone says Snape's a hero, but he's just a coward."

Zoe's face and neck grew hot at those words, but nothing compared to the warm tingling that grew up her arm, emanating from her wand. Helplessly and with wide eyes, she felt her arm rise and an instant later, Cecilia was shrieking on the cold ground, covering her face as large blisters formed along one side.

"Zoe!" Lottie screamed in horror as the crowd of students descended on Cecilia.

"Snape's kid hexed her!" Zoe heard one student call.

"Zoe, why'd you do that?" John asked, flabbergasted. "I mean, we all wanted to, but… oh blimey, this isn't good…"

Everything was a blur and nobody was as shocked as Zoe. She looked down to the writhing girl on the ground with utter shock on her face and then to the wand held in her right hand.

"I… I didn't mean…" she managed to say aloud softly, shaking her head.

"West, Rote, take Cecilia to Madam Pomfrey, then come to my office," Professor Lupin commanded. "Mr. Andersen, help me get the rest of this lot inside."

Professor Lupin settled his gaze on Zoe before he turned away and the disappointment she saw on his face instilled in her more shame than she'd ever felt before. What had she done? What must everyone think of her?

Solemnly, the group made their way into the castle and to the Transfiguration classroom where they waited for Professor Lupin to call them into his office in small groups in order to get their version of events. Zoe was the last to enter the office and she entered alone as Lottie and John exited, having expounded their story. They gave Zoe sympathetic looks before bidding her good luck and going back to their respective dormitories.

Zoe walked into the office and sat down. She looked down at her hands.

"Rosalie heard what Cecilia said," Professor Lupin started quietly. "And though it was an incredibly unkind thing of her to say about your father, that is not an adequate reason to hex her, especially as she was turning her back."

"Yes, sir," Zoe managed to say.

She wanted to tell her professor that she hadn't wanted to hurt Cecilia, that her wand had seemed to act of its own volition. But even saying that in her head sounded mad; he'd never believe her.

"Your friends told me what led to the altercation and, after hearing everyone's viewpoint, it would appear that the vast majority of blame is with Cecilia and her friends. I'd say they did start the whole thing," Lupin continued. "But I want to know why you used a burning jinx on her. I've not known you to be malicious or vengeful before."

"I—" Zoe started, not really knowing what to say. Tears were forming in her eyes. "I don't know. She called Papa a coward and it made me angry. But… I swear, I didn't mean to do it. I didn't even know that I knew a burning hex. Please, Professor, you have to believe me."

"It isn't a first year level spell, for sure, at least not nonverbally, but it's apparent that you learned it somewhere," Lupin stated, the look on his face clearly skeptical of her response. "And with your rather advanced abilities…" He shook his head. "I know your father has many books on a wide array of subjects and that you have read some. You learned it from one of them, perhaps?"

Zoe shrugged. "Maybe," she said weakly, though she felt like she would remember having learned it. She looked up at her professor. "You have to tell him, don't you?"

Professor Lupin nodded solemnly. "The Heads of House are responsible for setting consequences for their own members in instances of student dueling. And something like this… a dispute involving a number of witnesses… It would never escape his ears, I'm afraid. Therefore, as Head of Gryffindor and the teacher that took up the case, yes. I am obligated to inform the Head of Slytherin that an altercation between some of his students took place. I imagine I will meet with your father first thing after he arrives back from his sabbatical tomorrow."

* * *

><p>His trip to Oslo had been successful but exhausting and, upon arriving back to Hogwarts mid-evening, all Severus had wanted to do was take a hot shower, read a chapter from the book Zoe had given him, and crawl into bed. He'd been feeling a bit under the weather the past day, but that wouldn't keep him from a brief homecoming with his daughter before he retired.<p>

Having arranged his things back into his office, he was just about to have a house elf fetch her when there was a knock on the door and Lupin entered. The man was apologetic about having to bring news to him. Severus had insisted he not beat around the bush and so Lupin had gotten to the point rather quickly, telling him of a squabble that had happened on the grounds the night before.

With each word his colleague spoke, Severus could feel a disappointed temper rising within himself. So much so, that he elected to employ Occlumency to reign it back.

What had the girl been thinking? Clearly, she hadn't been. She'd once again allowed her emotions to get the better of her and she'd disregarded his instructions to let any discourse be, to talk to a trusted adult, to stay out of duels. And now, here Severus was listening to Lupin tell him how Zoe had used a burning hex on the Aaron girl.

Lupin left his office and the first thing Severus did was call on Rosalie West. The Slytherin prefect expounded her understanding of the situation, including her belief that Zoe had hexed Cecilia Aaron as revenge for Cecilia having called him a coward.

"She was really upset about the whole thing, Professor," West said. "I saw her crying outside Professor Lupin's office last night and telling Lottie that she didn't mean to do it. And she seems to be in some kind of guilty stupor today. She's hardly talked to anyone."

Severus merely inclined his head at this knowledge before he dismissed the prefect and told her to send Zoe to him immediately.

Several minutes later, his daughter knocked on his office door and, when he instructed her to enter, she barely cracked the door open and slid inside, her eyes trained on the floor, well aware that she was here to pay the piper.

Severus didn't say a word as Zoe dragged her feet and came to stand in front of his desk, several feet behind the two chairs that were always placed there. She still had not looked at him and that aggravated him in his fatigue.

He took a deep breath in through his nostrils to try to remain calm and stood. He walked around his desk, his hands clasped behind his back as he approached to stand in front of her.

"Did I, or did I not, tell you to stay out of duels while I was away?"

The girl said nothing, so Severus moved on.

"Have we not discussed on more than one occasion that you are to stay out of duels in general? Did I not advise you to turn the other cheek should someone say something to you that you disagreed with, even if it angered you?"

Zoe fidgeted, but still, she didn't say anything. Severus saw her nervously clutch at her skirt, kneading the wool in her fist.

He growled. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Zoe looked up at him for the first time. Her expression was penitent and her eyes were surprisingly mirroring the color of his own. He couldn't be sure if she was doing it consciously or if it was an instinctual change—as was common when she was in distress.

"It was my wand," Zoe said simply. "It wasn't me. I didn't want to hex Cecilia, but my wand just did it anyway."

Severus arched a single eyebrow. "Your wand?"

Zoe nodded emphatically. "It did it on its own. I was angry at what Cecilia said, but I wasn't even thinking about hexing her."

Severus stared at his daughter. "Ridiculous," he sneered. "Your wand is merely a conduit of your magic and your intent. It is not sentient."

"I swear!" Zoe pleaded. "I swear I didn't want to hex her. I didn't even know that I knew how to cast a burning hex…"

Severus scoffed at that. "With your bibliokleptic tendencies over the years? I'm sure you obtained knowledge of the spell from one of my books at some point."

"That's what Professor Lupin said," Zoe replied solemnly, looking to her feet once more.

Severus noticed her breathing increase suddenly, her shoulders rising with each heave. Clearly, her anxiety toward the situation was washing over her now. After only a moment, she raised her head once again and her eyes blazed orange.

"He didn't believe me, but I thought that _you_ would." Her tone was unusually biting.

"And what makes you think that I would believe _your_ far-fetched version of events over the claims of a dozen witnesses, including two Slytherin prefects and a teacher?"

Zoe's eyes widened as if she'd been slapped and astonishment—betrayal even—became evident in her manner. When she spoke, her words were subdued.

"Because I'm your daughter," she said.

Tears were culling at the bottom of her eyes as Severus merely stared down at her. He'd hurt her with his mistrust of her story; he could see that much.

Still, he had to stay firm for she had rather severely injured another student and, by this time, the entire school would be well aware of that fact. Had this incident happened in the last term, however, he could have given any punishment and it would have been viewed as standard. But now that everyone knew that Zoe was his daughter, knew that she had hexed the daughter of a prominent ex-Death Eater, (though Zoe was not aware of that fact or of the implications of it), he could not afford to give the impression of playing favorites. People would believe that he let her off easy if he were to mete out a single detention or issue her lines.

He wanted to damn the Founders and all the Headmasters and Headmistresses of the past for not setting a guideline of consequences for when duels took place amongst students. He would have thought that one of the greatest minds of their respective age would have figured out that entirely too much decision-making responsibility was placed upon the shoulders of the Head of House when it came to disciplinary matters. Of course, normally, it didn't bother him to have a certain amount of…creativity…but in this instance, it was making his life extremely difficult.

Severus took a deep breath. He would be her father later; he was confident that they would talk this through. But for now, she was his student and the consequences of her actions the day before needed to be addressed by her Head of House first and foremost.

"You are a member of Slytherin House at the moment," he said succinctly. "You are accused of jinxing a fellow student while their back was turned and—"

"I didn't mean to!" Zoe practically screamed at him, crying now. "I told you! It was my wand!"

"I do not want to hear your excuses," he said loudly, his bottled frustration managing to flow over with her outburst. Later, he would think back and be surprised—ashamed, really—by the coldness of his voice. "You disobeyed my expressed wishes and you know the rules of this school. Dueling is forbidden; it will not be tolerated. Thirty points from Slytherin and the entirety of your weekends for the next month will be devoted to detention."

"But, Papa—"

"You are _dismissed_, Miss Agnew," he said with finality, turning away from her to go back to his desk, unable to handle the trembling of Zoe's lower lip, the sheen over her eyes, or the tears streaming over the light freckles on her face.

Without another word, she turned and exited the office. The sound of running feet across his classroom did not go unnoticed; it caused Severus to curse aloud. He supposed they weren't going to talk this through after all—not that night anyway.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Zoe awoke feeling as if she'd been run over by a hippogriff. Her muscles were a bit tight and her head pounded. Figuring it was due to her crying from the night before, she thought little of it as she got out of bed.<p>

Zoe had come back to her dormitory in a messy, tear-soaked state. She'd told Lottie everything that had happened in her father's office, about how he hadn't believed her story and then given her so many detentions. She had even explained to her best friend about what her wand had done the night before. Lottie, luckily, had seemed to believe her, and that had made Zoe feel much better.

As she rose to take a shower, hoping that would ease the pulsing of her head, she looked to her wand sitting upon the bedside table. Normally very protective of the instrument, Zoe felt a sudden sense of anger and, disconcertingly, resentment toward it. Why would it fire off a hex that she knew she hadn't intended it to cast? Was there something buried deep within her that had caused her wand to react that way?

That thought triggered a sense of fear to overcome her then. Was there some odd, unknown power that she hadn't tapped into yet that was trying to release itself? It sounded like something from one of her adventure books and not anything that was grounded in reality but, without knowing exactly what had happened, it seemed plausible.

Therefore, when she had dressed for the day, she had chosen to put her wand into the leather sheath her father had purchased for her in Diagon Alley—which she'd had yet to actually use—and put it into her rucksack next to her books and parchment instead of stowing it in her robes pocket as she usually did. Then, she headed upstairs for breakfast.

Entering into the Great Hall, her head continued to pound heavily. Despite her shower, she still felt only half-awake, her feet were heavy to move, and her arms felt burdensome. She wanted to curl back up in her bed and sleep.

As she approached the Slytherin table with Lottie, she happened to glance up to the head table where her father was watching her, his brow wrinkled in a strange concern. He rose slowly from his chair, his eyes trained on her face.

"Zoe, are you all right?" she vaguely heard Lottie ask. She put her hand on Zoe's shoulder as they paused in front of the section of the table where they normally sat. "You're swaying."

"What?" Zoe asked dumbly.

Her eyelids had suddenly grown exceptionally heavy and the world seemed to spin the longer she stood still. Figuring it would even out if she kept moving, she took a step forward and then, suddenly, everything went dark.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Please, please, please review! Let me know what you think.<em>**


	28. An Introduction Long Overdue

**_Hello everyone! So, I'm really sorry that it's been SO long since my last update. I have a couple of chapters coming up here that had details that had to be just right and the easiest way to make sure I did that was to write the chapters concurrently. So, I've basically been writing three chapters instead of just one._**

**_Anyway, since it's been so long, I thought I'd give a brief summary..._**

**_If you recall, Severus had left Hogwarts for a weekend of gathering potion ingredients in Norway. In that time, Zoe had an unfortunate encounter with Cecilia Aaron which resulted in her wand seemingly hexing the other girl on its own. When Severus returned and learned what had happened, he was furious with Zoe and gave her detention. The next morning, Zoe walked into the Great Hall upset with her father and feeling a bit odd, when she suddenly collapsed. That brings us to this chapter._**

**_Enjoy._**

* * *

><p><strong>An Introduction Long Overdue<strong>

"_Hello, sweetheart."_

_Zoe slid one eyelid open, but quickly shut it again. A blinding brightness had caused a stinging sensation that made opening her eyes completely undesirable. Additionally, it was warm and comfortable where she was lying. She didn't want to have to wake up and move from such contentedness._

_But someone was stroking her hair, she suddenly realized. And that same someone, presumably, was also talking softly to her and humming. It was not a voice she recognized—at least, Zoe didn't think she recognized it at first, but the more she listened, a part of her felt that it was very familiar._

"_It's all right, Zoe," the voice said tenderly. "Darling, open your eyes." _

_Slowly, trusting the voice, she opened both her eyes, blinking against the harsh, milky white light that enveloped her. There was a snowy sort of smoke all around, but it wasn't choking, as she would have expected. Instead, it was rather soothing, like the steam from a hot bath._

_Zoe sat up and looked around her. There was nothing distinguishing that she could see, though it felt as if she was sitting on a soft bed of grass and, when she looked down, the smoke seemed to move a bit to reveal just that—lush, green grass._

_The more she looked out away from herself, the more she could see that she was sitting in a meadow of some sort. It wasn't a familiar place, necessarily, but it reminded her of the meadows she'd read described in her adventure and fantasy books._

_A hand touched her hair then, pushing a lock behind her ear. Zoe turned quickly to gaze into eyes that were a stunning crystal blue. In her eleven years, she'd never even seen a photograph but based on a half-grunted description from her father, she knew exactly to whom the voice and the hand and the eyes belonged._

"_Mum?" she asked tentatively and the woman in front of her smiled broadly._

* * *

><p><em>Zoe didn't know how much time she spent talking to her mother—telling her nearly everything she could think of—as her head rested in the woman's lap while her mother ran her hand through Zoe's long, brown locks. She described her bedroom at Spinner's End and told her all about Zeus. Her mother was very interested in Zoe's magical abilities and seemed content to listen to Zoe's triumphs and troubles when it came to spells and potions. She talked of Hogwarts and her friends and of her favorite teachers and subjects. <em>

"_And you _enjoy_ flying on a broomstick?" her mother asked._

_Zoe grinned broadly. "Very much. It's liberating and…exhilarating!"_

_Her mother laughed. "You've certainly picked up your father's vocabulary," she mused. "But I imagine Severus has quite a different opinion about your flying." As she spoke her observation, her mother looked away; she seemed to have said that part to herself._

_Zoe wrinkled her brow, confused. "He bought me my Jetstream for Christmas," she said._

_Her mother turned to look down upon Zoe again. She smiled._

"_Oh, dear, I'm not saying he regrets giving you your broom. I'm sure he's happy that it brings you joy," her mother clarified._

_Zoe nodded._

"_Go on," her mother encouraged. "Tell me about your godmother."_

_So, Zoe did. She went on and on for what felt like ages about Minerva and how wonderful of a godmother she was, even if she was a bit too old to do some things with Zoe. She talked about Portree and several experiences she'd had at Budhmor Firth. She talked about long walks upon the moor and along the rocky coast of the sea then explained all about the uncomfortable sensation of Apparition._

_After a while, a lull came in her descriptions and she closed her eyes, just soaking in everything about this experience with her mother, memorizing it._

_Eventually, however, her mother broke the silence with a question._

"_How is your father?" she asked softly._

_Zoe opened her eyes and looked up into her mother's for a moment, then she sat up and turned her head away to gaze out upon the clean mist that hovered over the meadow. She couldn't help that her mind wandered to the unpleasant encounter she'd had with him regarding the hexing of Cecilia Aaron. She was still fairly upset and resentful that he hadn't believed her story._

_She sighed heavily and looked down at the grass, picking the leaves out of the ground to give her something to do to try to stymie the negative feelings._

"_Papa's strict," she said finally._

"_Your father likes order and values common sense," her mother responded._

"_He yells a lot," Zoe grumbled. "Or, at least, he gets angry a lot. Sometimes his voice is just scary, even if it isn't raised."_

"_He's a bit of a dramatist."_

"_He keeps putting me in detention."_

_Zoe's mother smiled adoringly and sighed._

"_Your father loves you more than anything and he is sometimes critical because he wants you to live up to your full potential, to see you become everything that he is not."_

_Zoe thought for a moment on her mother's words._

"_Minerva says I'm just like Papa," she stated. "She rolls her eyes when she says it sometimes."_

_Her mother's eyes danced with mirth before leveling her daughter with a more serious gaze._

"_Let me rephrase and be clearer. You, my daughter, bring out all of the best in your father. You embody his strength and intelligence, his curiosity, his wit, and his inherent ability to love and protect those who are most dear to him. However, you've also inherited his stubborn streak and temper. Those are the traits that often land you in detention, if I'm not mistaken, and those are the only things your father often sees of himself in you, I'm afraid."_

"_But why can't he see those other things and give me a break sometimes?"_

"_He does see them in you, Zoe, but rarely does he attribute your good characteristics with himself."_

_Zoe wrinkled her forehead. "But why?"_

"_You see," her mother continued. "Your father believes himself hardened and unworthy of affection. He doesn't want you to become like him."_

_Zoe nodded and, again, tried to let the words sink in, but it was rather difficult. She didn't entirely understand what her mother was saying about him. He felt himself hardened and unworthy of affection? As in, he didn't think he deserved to be loved? It was hard for Zoe to grasp exactly why anyone would feel that way, especially her father._

_But she was still so angry with him for not believing her about what her wand had done in the Memorial Grove that it was hard for her to express to her mother that she, Zoe, loved her father very much even despite his prickly demeanor and, therefore, thought that his belief was just silly._

"_Zoe, do not be so hard on your father," her mother said then. It was as if she somehow knew what Zoe had been thinking. "He has had a difficult life and the philosophies he brings to raising you are all to try to make up for past wrongs. He wants you to grow up to be a strong, capable person—complete in a way that he never was."_

_She smiled at Zoe and pressed her forehead against hers. "You may be eleven now, but I think he is still in a fair amount of shock at having been graced with such a beautiful, intelligent child," she speculated good-naturedly._

_Zoe couldn't help but blush at the compliment as her mother pulled away from her and looked longingly toward the brilliant, white light. Her features sobered slightly._

"_Always remember that he loves you, with all his heart." Her voice suddenly seemed farther away._

"_He still yells a lot," Zoe grumbled._

_Her mother let out an exuberant laugh and her eyes sparkled with amusement. It was music to Zoe's ears. She leaned into her mother contentedly._

"_Yes, sweetheart, I'm afraid some things are hard to change."_

Zoe awoke with a start and realized almost instantly that she had been dreaming.

But the dream had been so vivid, as if her mother really had been there, holding her, as Zoe had prattled on. Elizabeth Agnew had listened attentively to her daughter, hanging on to every word, learning about everything that Zoe had wanted her to. But Zoe had wanted to learn about her mother, to ask her mother so many questions. She had wanted to know all about the woman who had felt so conspicuously absent in the past few months. She was highly disappointed that they'd spent so much time focused on what now seemed like trivial subjects, though they'd seemed important to talk about at the time.

Now it was all over. The meadow had faded away so quickly that Zoe hadn't realized it was happening until the grass and the mist and her mother were gone.

She cried hard into her pillow.

She wanted her mum.

Eventually, her cries subsided and Zoe lay quietly on her belly sniffling and hiccupping. Slowly, she opened her eyes and suddenly realized that the pillow she currently had her face buried in wasn't her pillow at all. In fact, the sheets wrapped around her were much too high quality to be in the hospital wing or even her dormitory. And the bed was enormous.

Zoe rolled onto her back and surveyed her surroundings. She was lying on a large, elegant, canopied bed. The linens were white and crisp and the down comforter spread over her was a dark grey. The curtains of the bed had been pulled back to reveal to Zoe a large room with sparse furniture. A grand wardrobe stood across the room directly in front of her, as well as a comfortable-looking armchair, and there were two small tables on either side of the bed. A single Persian rug lay in the middle of the rustic hardwood floor.

Zoe's eyes immediately spied the windows through which the purples and reds of the heavens indicated the ending of a day.

Where was she? Why was she here? And why was she so terribly cold?

Zoe sat up onto her elbows and immediately kicked the covers away despite the warmth they provided, trying to remember how she had gotten here. She'd been about to have breakfast. She remembered feeling very peculiar when she woke up that morning and hadn't had much of an appetite. She remembered Lottie had said something to her in the Great Hall and then everything had gone black. She couldn't recall anything past that.

Curious, Zoe sat up completely in bed and was bombarded with a sudden wave of nausea so strong she felt that she could have vomited right there on the duvet, but she held it back. As she moved to the edge of the bed, straightening her long nightgown where it had bunched up around her waist, a splitting headache wracked her skull.

She paused for a minute, blinking back tears and trying to get her bearings. She then swiped her sleeve across her cheeks to clear away the streaks remaining from the emotional aftermath of her earlier dream.

Finally, Zoe rose from the bed and, on rickety legs, slowly crossed the room, and opened the door. With every step every inch of her ached as she shuffled along the short corridor toward the light and warmth of a glowing fire. Her breathing quickly became labored and it grew harder for her to ignore the queasiness in her stomach or the shaking of her hands. Eventually, she came out of the corridor to look upon the grand room before her.

It was three times the size of the bedroom and seemed to be three different rooms combined. Near the fire closest to her were chairs and a sofa—clearly the sitting room. In the middle was a modest dining area where a small, candled chandelier hung over a six-seat table stacked high with books. At the very end was a study with a grand desk in front of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that framed tall, regal windows with stained glass at the top. Those bookshelves were also filled completely with books.

And behind the desk reading a scroll of parchment, sat Zoe's father.

The instant Zoe shuffled in, her father acknowledged the movement on the opposite side of the room and was on his feet, rushing toward her.

"Papa…" Zoe managed to choke out before her legs buckled on her and she started to fall. Fortunately, her father lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground and, scooping one arm under her knees, he carried her back toward the bedroom.

"You must remain in bed, Zoe," he said softly. "You are weak and your recovery is not conducive to strenuous activity."

Zoe frowned, thinking that walking across a room shouldn't be considered strenuous. Yet she was so tired…

"What… happened… to me?" Zoe breathed out, her teeth chattering, as her father entered into the bedroom, his face exhibiting a deep frown.

"You have elven influenza," he stated simply, leaning down to place Zoe back on the sheets.

He reached over to pull the blankets back up and over her. Zoe instantly settled into the bed, but her head seemed heavy on her neck and she felt it roll ungracefully toward her chest. She used what muscles in her power to pull her head up to lie normally upon the pillow.

Her father looked on her, a perplexed, worried look upon his face, before sitting down beside her and extending forward to readjust the pillows so that Zoe could lie a bit flatter. Then, he took up her nearest hand and placed two fingers on her wrist, checking her pulse.

"Your heart rate is much too quick," he said. Zoe couldn't really tell if he was talking to her or to himself. He reached back under the duvet and felt her feet.

"Freezing cold."

"I saw Mum," Zoe said suddenly, not knowing what possessed her to do so.

Her father paused for a moment. He locked eyes with Zoe and wrinkled his brow then placed a hand on her forehead and simultaneously used a finger to lift one of her eyelids as his wand slipped out of his sleeve and into his opposite hand.

"Your eyes are dilated and you need yet another dose of Strengthening Solution, it seems…," he said, waving his wand all around, casting diagnostic spells that caused her skin to tingle and phosphoresce.

"Papa!" Zoe said as loud as she was able. She reached out and grabbed her father's wand arm, thus halting his assessment of her condition.

"I saw… _Mum_. She…talked to me for— for _ages_. She was so pretty. And she… she was s-sitting in a m-meadow and—"

"Zoe," her father said evenly, stalling her ramblings. "You're feverish and delirious. It was a dream. I need you to be still and calm your overexcitement."

"I'm not…_overexcited_!" Zoe demanded loudly. "Or delirious!" She started to sit up in her indignation, but her father placed a hand on her shoulder to lay her back down. Zoe didn't fight him because the nausea that hit her then and the pounding in her head was almost unbearable.

"I would say shouting at me would be considered overexcitement," he said sternly.

"You never believe me!" Zoe snapped back.

Her father frowned. "I would prefer not to, but I will give you a sedative if you force my hand. Now, please, calm yourself. The aim is rest. Overexertion will only prolong your illness."

When Zoe started to cry—she couldn't help it, she just felt so rotten—her father sighed heavily and swiped a hand over his face. He looked more fatigued and troubled than she could ever remember him having looked before, and that included the night of the attack on Spinner's End.

"All right, tell me about your dream," he said, obviously conceding the fact that Zoe's thoughts were currently far from her own recovery.

Zoe looked up at her father, clumsily wiping tears from her face.

She nodded her head and went about telling him everything that she had seen—stopping a few times to catch her breath. She kept out the part of the conversation she had had with her mother about him, however. Mostly, he listened, interjecting only once or twice to question her further about more specific aspects of her dream.

"How did your mother look?"

Zoe smiled. "She was so pretty, Papa. Her teeth were much straighter than mine and her hair—"

"You misunderstand me," her father interrupted. "What I mean is: was your mother corporeal? Did she look like a ghost—white, misty, or translucent—or did she look solid, like you and I?"

Zoe wrinkled her forehead. That was a confusing question. Why would her mother look like a ghost in her dreams? She wasn't a ghost.

"She…looked like…us," Zoe stated, her breathing feeling quite heavy now. "Maybe she was a bit fuzzy…around the edges… But what does that—"

"Continue," her father prompted.

Zoe allowed her shoulders to slump. He was doing it again; dodging her questions.

"That's it. Then I… Then I woke up."

Her father inclined his head and stood from the bed.

"Very well," he said as he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out two vials and unstoppered one.

He came forward, put his left hand under Zoe's head, and put the vial to her lips. "Strengthening Solution," he said simply as he tipped the potion into Zoe's mouth.

Zoe didn't fight him or dispute it, despite it tasting rancid—she simply didn't have the energy. When she had swallowed the first vial, her father followed it with another potion, which Zoe also drank quickly. Then he laid her head softly back upon the pillow as Zoe could feel sleep start to take her almost instantly.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Severus stood just inside the doorway of his bedroom, staring across the room at his daughter in the bed. Despite being covered in four thick blankets, she was still shivering from her fever. But that wasn't what concerned him.<p>

The girl seemed to be having some sort of vivid dream or nightmare for her head kept moving from side to side upon her pillow and from time to time, her knees would come up as if she intended to kick the blankets away, but their weight would always hinder that sort of action. She was mumbling something as well, as if she were talking to someone, for it sounded almost conversational in tone, though it was not remotely intelligible.

He didn't know how long he'd stood there merely watching Zoe's fitful sleep, his arms crossed over his chest while the fingers of one hand delicately and continuously traced the outline of his lips—something he did when he was anxious and refused to Occlude.

"How is she today?"

Severus startled and looked to his right, where Minerva had joined him in the room. Her face was lined with concern as she, too, witnessed Zoe's feverish slumber.

"She looks awfully pale," the Headmistress observed.

Severus took a deep breath in through his nostrils. He really wasn't in the mood for visitors and it annoyed him that Minerva had taken the liberty of inviting herself in at such a late hour.

Severus merely gave the witch a sidelong glance and stalked toward the bed.

"She's getting worse," he said lowly, simply.

"Worse?" Minerva asked, walking forward as well and stopping at the foot of the bed, eyeing Zoe. "What do you mean?"

Severus shot a glare at the Headmistress. "I mean, she is ill and I have reason to believe that her condition has worsened," he stated condescendingly.

"But she's been given the same potions as all the other students who have come down with influenza in the last week. It's true that she's been unwell a bit longer than the others, but we should be seeing progress by now."

"Well, she isn't making progress!" Severus snapped. He saw the look of hurt on Minerva's face at his outburst, but he didn't acknowledge it.

Instead, he paced along the side of the bed for a few moments before collapsing into the armchair he'd brought over to be by Zoe's side. He sighed heavily and put his head into one hand, rubbing his forehead. He did feel guilty for his temper, but he couldn't find the energy to give it much thought. He was too absorbed in concern and, admittedly, depression as he watched his daughter suffer.

Zoe had been the first Hogwarts student to fall prey to the illness, but she hadn't been the only one. Within the first twenty-four hours, they'd had nine cases, including Zoe's friend, Lottie Wickham. Now, nearly a week into the epidemic, forty-three students had fallen victim—nearly all recovering within two or three days with regular doses of anti-elven influenza potion.

Because of this, Caspar Goode had been working overtime to procure enough of the potion—which was typically diluted, but effective for the vast majority of cases—to keep a healthy stock for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had had a very sudden need of large amounts, despite all the preparation for such a contingency.

Regardless of it all, a few cases of the illness had become serious enough to warrant trips to St. Mungo's for closer observation; however, all the children had made—or were expected to make—a full recovery.

All the children except Zoe.

For reasons beyond their knowledge, Zoe's body had found the diluted-formula potion to be ineffective which made Madam Pomfrey's ability to give Severus an accurate prognosis nearly impossible.

Severus closed his eyes as he clearly remembered his daughter's ashen, fatigued face as she had walked into the Great Hall that morning. He knew immediately that something had been off with her as he'd concernedly risen to approach her. He didn't even think that she had noticed that she hadn't combed her hair after her shower that morning for it had been wet and tangled when he'd reached her side following her collapse. She'd been lucky Lottie and a quick-reflexed Ravenclaw Quidditch player had been there to catch her, otherwise, Severus was sure she would be nursing a cracked skull in addition to the influenza.

"How is Goode progressing with the concentrated serum?" he asked irritably then, instantly damning his tone. He'd meant to be curious, not confrontational.

Minerva, who had taken a seat at the foot of the bed, turned her eyes on him, calm in the face of his hostility.

"Unfortunately, he's botched both cauldrons he's attempted so far. The concentrated form is tricky, Severus. You know that."

Severus did know.

Once it was clear that the potion was not going to take in Zoe's case, they had decided to adopt a more drastic approach to try to boost her immune response. Thus, it had been decided between Severus and the matron the day before that the more potent anti-elven influenza serum—a concentrated form of the potion—would be their best hope.

The problem was that it was rarely available. St. Mungo's had exhausted their meager stock weeks before and were waiting on a new shipment from their supplier in India.

Therefore, Professor Goode, on top of his already-full brewing schedule, had also volunteered to attempt to concoct the serum, which required nearly constant supervision, precisely-timed ingredient additions, and changes in temperature to be brewed successfully. On top of that, a very complicated distilling process of the final liquid form had to be followed with a very unstable thickening agent that would ultimately make the potion the consistency of honey. Only then could the serum be effectively administered. Otherwise, it was very nearly poisonous.

"What about the spells?" Minerva asked then. "_Valetudo_ _Melior_. I heard you and Poppy discussing it as an option two days ago."

"It is being utilized every day to little effect."

Severus saw Minerva purse her lips, clearly out of options. They sat quietly for quite some time, listening to Zoe's rattling breaths and watching as the girl twitched in her sleep. Severus reached out and placed his hand on his daughter's forearm. This seemed to calm her shuddering slightly.

He heard Minerva shift where she sat and looked up at her. She had a curious expression on her face.

"What did you mean when you said you had reason to believe her condition was worsening?" she asked. "Poppy told me only an hour ago that Zoe's condition was stable overall."

Severus couldn't help that he looked away. He didn't think he'd be able to stand the look upon the Headmistress's face when he told her what he knew.

"She awoke earlier," he said quietly. He took a deep, fortifying breath. "She awoke earlier, extremely weak, and, before I had given her the requisite potions, she told me—"

He paused, needing more strength to continue. He solemnly closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and trained his gaze onto the face of his little girl. She looked so small and pale tucked into the enormous bed.

"She told me she had seen her mother."

When Minerva didn't speak, Severus looked up.

"Saw her mother in a dream?" the woman asked, a perplexed look upon her face.

Severus stared at a point beyond Minerva's shoulder and, slowly, he shook his head. Minerva reacted—rather predictably—with a gasp.

"It was not an apparition? Her mother appeared corporeal?"

Severus merely nodded.

"Zoe recognized specific features? She wasn't merely dreaming of the emotions she associates with her mother?"

"She described the straightness of her mother's teeth," Severus said quietly.

Minerva shook her head. "But that can only mean—"

She didn't seem to be able to say it. So Severus, feeling his temper rise again for no reason that he could comprehend in that moment, locked eyes with the witch and said it for her.

"It means she's been on the Threshold."

"But how could she—? Elven influenza is a terrible illness, of course, but most make a full recovery… She couldn't have— Severus, there has to be something more we could do! She's just a child…"

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Severus spat out then, his voice raised. He stood once more and began to pace. "Do you not see that it almost physically pains me that I am doing all I know how, but to no effect? If I could take the very breath I am given and give it to her, I would."

Minerva's eyes widened and she laid a hand on her chest in shock. Her gaze strayed from Severus and toward her goddaughter as tears pooled.

"Yes, of course, I just… Well, I didn't mean to imply that you weren't doing all you—"

"She's _my_ child," Severus said lowly, cutting the Headmistress's apology off and staring at her with such intensity that he saw Minerva shudder. "She is my life. Do not presume for a second that I do not understand the implications of this."

The room was quiet then and heavy with anger, regret, and sadness. Neither would ever admit that their varying emotions had gotten away with them, making their reactions irrational but, eventually, Minerva spoke again.

"You could brew that serum, Severus," she said confidently, looking up at him where he still stood beside the bed, his fists clenched in agitation. "You could brew it better than anyone."

Severus shook his head. "Perhaps I could have yesterday. But with this new…revelation… I will not leave her. I cannot leave her."

Minerva didn't say anything to that. He could feel her watching him as he resumed his seat at Zoe's side, however. She soon rose.

"I'll leave you alone with her but, please inform me of any change in her condition," she said. It sounded almost like a controlled plea.

Severus nodded in acknowledgement, feeling a detached guilt again for having been so terse. After all, it was selfish to think that Zoe had touched his life alone. Minerva had practically helped him to raise the girl; she had to be just as anxious and distressed as he.

* * *

><p>Minerva returned to her office with a heavy heart.<p>

Though she'd been taken aback, she couldn't blame Severus for his anger. It was the only way he knew how to express certain emotions, it seemed, and she knew him well enough to see that he wasn't Occluding as he usually did when those emotions threatened to overtake him. She imagined he wanted to experience every single one of these feelings as acutely as he possibly could—to feel something other than helplessness with the situation.

And thinking of Zoe, that beautiful, lively little girl that Minerva had loved as a daughter since she'd first laid eyes on her… she'd looked so pale and weak…

Minerva put her head in her hands and started to weep right at her desk. She couldn't hold her anguish and heartbreak back any longer.

"Whatever is the matter, Minerva?" she heard Albus Dumbledore speak behind her.

She pivoted in her chair and looked up at the portrait through blurry eyes.

"It's Zoe," she said simply.

"Oh dear," he said. "Poppy is still unsure of the timeline of her recovery?"

Minerva could only shake her head.

"It's worse," she said after several minutes of silent crying. "Severus says that Zoe awoke and described being on the Threshold with her deceased mother. If she goes there each time she loses consciousness, she may not recover at all."

There was silence from the portrait as Minerva dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and tried to be strong in the face of such heartbreaking news.

"And Severus?" Dumbledore asked, genuine concern evident in his tone.

"He's distraught. Though, he'd never admit it—never genuinely show it." Minerva shook her head. "That troubles me the most, Albus. If something were to happen to Zoe… I fear for Severus's wellbeing."

"In what way?"

Minerva looked up into the blue eyes of the former Headmaster and she could feel tears reemerging. "He's been through so much—too much. He's seen all the few people he's ever cared for ripped from him by death—nearly all of them prematurely. If Zoe were to succumb to this illness… I genuinely believe that he'd pose a danger to himself, perhaps do something irreversible."

She saw the portrait Headmaster nod his head solemnly.

"There is hope," he said. "Not all who have walked along the Threshold have gone on. Zoe may simply be obtaining new strengths or perspective there, as Harry once did. Perhaps she just needs this time with her mother more than she needs it with her father."

Then, abruptly, Dumbledore rose from his chair and exited his frame.

"I hope you're right, Albus," Minerva therefore said to an empty room.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Valetudo Melior in Latin means "good health". It's a spell I invented and I imagine it to be a spell used by Healers to boost a person's immune system. Like, the Emergen-C of the Harry Potter Universe. <em>**

**_Please review!_**


	29. An Encounter From the Past

_**Hello! Not much ado this time... Here is chapter 29.**_

* * *

><p><strong>An Encounter From the Past<strong>

"_Mum?"_

_Zoe once again found herself immersed in the stark-white mist of the meadow, but she'd arrived alone and instantly began searching for her mother._

_She seemed to go on for miles as Zoe plodded through the tall grass. In the distance, she could make out what looked vaguely like a forest but, due to the brightness of the fog, she couldn't entirely be sure that was what it was._

"_Zoe?"_

_The voice had come from behind her and, quickly, Zoe spun around. She smiled broadly._

_Her mother stood there only a couple meters away. She was dressed in long-sleeved, white robes that wrapped around her, securing at one shoulder with a silver brooch that was in the shape of a hummingbird. Her wavy, dark brown hair framed her face and her feet were bare._

_She smiled and held her arms out toward Zoe who wasted no time rushing into them, hugging her mother tightly._

"_I couldn't find you at first," Zoe said, looking into her mother's beautiful blue eyes._

"_I hadn't realized you'd be coming back here," Elizabeth said, a hint of surprise or confusion in her voice._

"_I wanted to see you again," Zoe said matter-of-factly, still clutching her mother._

_There was silence for a moment then Zoe heard her mother draw a deep breath._

"_I suppose a bit more time together won't hurt anything," she said, pulling Zoe away and looking down on her. She then brought her hands up and placed them tenderly on the sides of Zoe's face._

"_My sweet girl," she said, beaming at Zoe._

_Zoe smiled back, not really caring to even talk in that moment. She just wanted to memorize everything about her mother—her face, her hair, her eyes. Everything._

_Soon, her mother released her and started to walk along the meadow. Zoe followed, her eyes glued to the woman at her side._

"_I understand a strange thing happened with your wand," her mother said after several minutes of quiet strolling as she took Zoe's hand in hers._

_Zoe could feel her facial features melting into an embarrassed frown. She looked away._

"_Er… yeah, it hexed Cecilia. Er, Cecilia Aaron. Or, I hexed her, I guess. But it was an accident, Mum. I swear. Papa didn't believe me. He said my wand can only do what I want it to, but if I wanted it to hex her, I really didn't mean it. Or, maybe deep down I did. I don't know. I don't feel like I did, but—"_

_Zoe stopped talking. She just didn't know how to explain it and it was frustrating even to try. Talking about what her wand had done made all the tranquility she felt with this place dissolve away into an uncomfortable anxiety._

"_I just… sometimes I think that I might be Dark deep down. Or, maybe I have some weird hidden power and maybe my wand knows that."_

"_Did you tell your father these things?"_

_Zoe shook her head. "Well, I told him I thought I was Dark and he said I wasn't."_

"_He's a smart man," her mother said good-naturedly._

"_He wouldn't believe me about the hidden power thing if I told him," Zoe said a bit grumbly. "He never believes me when I say things like that."_

_Her mother stopped then and pushed a lock of Zoe's hair behind her ear. She pulled Zoe in for a brief hug before speaking again._

"_Your father's also a very pragmatic man, Zoe. It is not that he does not believe what you say, it is that through years of experience, he is, perhaps, capable of seeing things in a way that you are not yet able. He can clearly see an explanation in a scenario where you may only see confusion or wonder."_

_Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Oh." She felt a bit silly when her mother explained it like that._

"_So, you think I should tell him that I'm… er, that I'm kind of afraid to use my wand now?"_

_Her mother gave a subtle nod. "You should."_

_Zoe also nodded and leaned into her mother's side. She was content there until, suddenly, her mother pulled away._

"_I must go," she said. "There is…someone else I need to see."_

_Zoe looked up at her. "Who do you need to see?" she asked._

"_Someone very important," her mother responded. "But listen to me, Zoe. Don't ever be afraid of the power you have within you. You are a kind person—a very strong, good person—and as long as you seek to be those things, that power will only be enhanced, along with the lives of the people around you. Do not fear it and do not try to dispel it."_

_Zoe nodded solemnly, trying to take her mother's advice to heart._

"_I don't want you to go away," she said selfishly._

_Her mother smiled. "I will never truly go away for I am always with you."_

_When Zoe found herself alone in the meadow once again an instant later, she collapsed to lie in the soft bed of grass, saddened that her mother had to leave. She looked up into the misty sky and reflected on her mother's last words; it made her feel content with the short time she had gotten to spend with her in the misty meadow._

* * *

><p>Her breathing was strained and weak.<p>

Severus paced slowly beside the bed, his eyes trained on his daughter, continuing to worry his lips as she wheezed loudly in her sleep. In the last few hours, she'd slipped in and out of a troubled slumber. A small part of him hoped that he could will her into wellness, that perhaps he could somehow transfer some of his strength to her.

It was proving fruitless.

As he'd known it would. He was an academic, after all, and he knew that one's will only went so far in getting what one wanted in life. Though magic—mostly Dark spells—could sometimes sort the rest, he knew that success often came down to luck or… fate, and that angered him. It was not something he could control.

As he paced, he also concluded that getting what one wanted had much to do with hard work and perseverance.

That gave him some semblance of hope for he knew he had instilled in his daughter a sense of hard work and the girl was nothing if not persistent when she truly wanted something. Perhaps all she needed was a bit of encouragement.

Severus therefore sat down in the chair once more and took up one of Zoe's hands in both of his. He kissed the back of her fingers.

"Fight, Zoe," he said aloud. "I demand that you fight this."

His daughter whimpered in her sleep and sighed. Severus clenched his jaw to keep from getting emotional. He shook his head and took a deep, steadying breath.

"You must fight," he said simply, quietly.

He watched his daughter for several long minutes. She seemed to calm a bit after an hour or so and Severus leaned back in his chair, his gaze still settled on her face. As always, she looked so peaceful when she slept—so much younger. It got his mind reminiscing past events.

Though he'd been reluctant initially, the first time he'd held her—supported her tiny form in his arms—he'd fallen for her completely. Of course, he'd told himself at the time that he was merely fulfilling a duty. How was he to know that the little girl would have such a tight hold on his heart? Until she'd come along and taught him that the love of and for a child had the ability to heal nearly every wound, he'd thought himself incapable of loving another, not after all he'd gone through for Lily, not after the disappointment of his brief relationship with Elizabeth Agnew.

He recalled Zoe as a toddler. She'd always been so happy—giggly and curious—despite his oft-tetchy disposition. Everything had been a wonder to her and nothing satisfied her more than to listen to him read to her. Just read aloud, really. She hadn't even seemed to mind that his typical literature at the time had been potions journals; she'd seemed to be mesmerized merely by the sound of his voice.

Smirking, his mind moved on as he remembered the eyes of the stubborn five-year-old staring at him over a dinner plate picked clean of everything but the asparagus.

"You will not leave this table until your greens are eaten," he recalled telling her sternly, glaring back with the same intensity as the little girl. Zoe had merely crossed her arms over her chest and averted her gaze from him to the undesirable stalks in front of her hoping, perhaps, that they would disappear of their own accord if she stared at them long enough.

Over two hours later—nearing bedtime—the girl had still refused to eat them. Even as she had started to nod off, jerking herself awake only to shoot him another stubborn glower, did Severus realize that her resolve wasn't going to waver. It was then that he had given in, conceding that he'd found his match in the area of obstinacy. He recalled sighing heavily after the last ensuing staring contest before rising and pulling her plate from in front of her.

"Ollie," he had called and, once the elf had appeared: "Zoe is ready for her bath now."

The little girl had vaulted off her chair instantly and Severus had waved his wand, vanishing her uneaten asparagus before sending the plate to wash in the sink.

She had still come into his study twenty minutes later clad in pajamas with a mop of messy, wet hair to say good night, crawling up next to him on the old sofa to lean against him so that he could loop his arm around her and bring her close.

_He could see clearly in his mind's eye the girl at nine, sitting amongst tall grasses with a crown of flowers around her head and one of his thick, black jumpers on her small frame as he sipped at his morning coffee from the front door of the little cottage outside of Ventnor. He remembered that he had watched her for several minutes, reveling in the contentedness he always felt when he brought her to the little cottage on the sea. To this day, he had no idea where she had found the flowers in late February or why it was, exactly, that she had chosen to don his oversized jumper that morning instead of one of her own._

"_She's beautiful, our baby." _

_Severus startled, looking to his right to where Elizabeth had suddenly joined him in the doorway, looking out onto the same scene. Zoe was humming to herself and had no more noticed that her mother was standing there watching her any more than she had noticed him alone when the actual event had taken place nearly three years before._

_Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind, Severus had the inclination to believe that he had lapsed into slumber and, therefore, a dream state, no longer merely reminiscing the past. But it didn't seem to matter to him in that moment. All that mattered was the memory-dream that was playing out in front of him and the woman at his side._

"_She's as beautiful as her mother," Severus said simply._

"_Flatterer," Elizabeth responded just as succinct._

_Severus smirked and turned to look back at his daughter, content with the notion that he had fallen into conversation with the woman beside him seamlessly._

_After a moment, he turned his head slightly to gaze at Elizabeth out of the side of his eye. She looked nearly as Zoe had described her—corporeal, but much less fuzzy. She had a slight translucence to her body that was much more indicative of a dream than the Threshold. Yet, she looked the same as when he last saw her. She was radiant._

"_She has your eyes, Severus."_

"_They can be yours when she wants them to be."_

_Elizabeth shook her head. "In color only."_

_Then the woman looked fully at him. Her gaze was hopeful, loving._

"_I've been watching you over the years. You love her very much."_

_It was not a question. It was a statement of fact._

"_More than life itself," Severus responded._

"_Then you'll always fight for her."_

_Another fact._

"_Elizabeth, I—" he began, feeling the urge to apologize for…something. For everything._

_Elizabeth reached up and placed a finger to Severus's lips, halting his speech. Her eyes shifted back out to Zoe._

"_This is my favorite part," she said._

_Severus followed her gaze and watched as Zoe plucked a blade of the long, dry grass that surrounded her. She looked at it intently for several long moments before crushing it in her hand. The blade shuddered for a moment before it magically thickened and elongated. From the end of it grew a single, lavender-colored flower. Zoe smiled and pulled the crown of flowers off her head and began weaving the newest one into the bunch._

How did I miss that before?_ Severus wondered at nearly the same instant he remembered that he had been distracted by a pair of seagulls bickering in the sky above._

"_I knew early on in my pregnancy that she was special in some way. I could feel…something—magic, I suppose—as I carried her," Elizabeth said. "I'm so happy that she's like you, Severus. She's perfect."_

_Severus shook his head. "She may have my magical abilities, but she takes after her mother," he countered._

"_In looks only."_

"_Her personality is more reminiscent of yours and she has your stubbornness."_

"Your_ stubbornness, I think you mean," Elizabeth said, bumping his hip playfully._

_Severus smirked._

"_She's her mother's daughter," he said with finality._

_Elizabeth shook her head and then turned to look at him head on. "In every way that matters most, she is yours."_

_Severus stared at the woman—the mother of his child—and inclined his head in concession._

_Elizabeth smiled at him, the aura around her seeming to grow as she did so._

"_She's afraid of her wand, you know," she said conversationally._

_Severus wrinkled his brow. "Afraid of her wand?"_

_Elizabeth nodded. "A bit, yes. Since you were so absolute in the dismissal of her feeling that it had acted of its own accord, she thinks she has some deep, horrible inclination toward evil that her wand senses. She's afraid she can't control it."_

_Severus looked straight up, exasperated. "Of all the ridiculous..." he grumbled, trailing off._

"_Zoe didn't consciously intend to hex that vile Aaron girl, Severus," Elizabeth continued. "Though, you know the hex was rather well deserved."_

"_I have no doubt," Severus said._

"_And Ollivander warned you about that wand."_

_Severus heaved a great sigh. He hadn't even thought of that as he'd scolded his daughter for the incident in the Memorial Grove. The temperament of the griffin wand should have been taken into account. It truly hadn't acted of its own accord—it was incapable of doing so—but it had tapped into something undesirable within its master, most likely._

_Not that Zoe was Dark or had an inclination toward evil, as Elizabeth had said Zoe feared._

_No, Zoe's recent, violent encounter with Death Eaters may have been a factor in the reaction of her wand—a delayed survival instinct, perhaps, from the threatening words of Miss Aaron._

_Her Occlumency lessons should have been considered as well. Learning Occlumency had been known to make the unconscious mind more susceptible to buried emotions and intentions. Her wand may have problematic reactions to stronger buried feelings until it learned to distinguish Zoe's real meaning from her fleeting thoughts—something mastering Occlumency would also remedy, ironically._

"_You'll reevaluate that conversation?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes dancing with triumph as if she knew precisely that he would._

_Severus nodded._

"_Do you think she'll forgive me my conclusion-jumping?"_

_Elizabeth grinned. "Of course. You're her favorite."_

_Severus smirked. "That seems a bit… optimistic. She called me a bully last term." He inclined his head. "Though, I find that she's astonishingly defensive of me in general."_

_Elizabeth looked at him curiously. Severus gave a sort of flabbergasted shake of his head, looking back toward Zoe, and continued, his brow creased in confusion. "She hates that I'm hated amongst the students, despises that I'm feared," he said candidly. "She gets upset when one of her classmates says something unkind about me." He looked back down at Elizabeth. "Where does that come from?"_

_Elizabeth moved toward him and looped her arm through his. She laid her head against his shoulder. Even in this dream, Severus imagined he could smell the floral scent of the perfume she used to wear._

"_She loves you and adores you, Severus. Do you honestly not see it?" Elizabeth tilted her chin up to look at him and, upon seeing his bemused expression, she merely gave a small shake of her head, apparently in disbelief._

"_You are just as much her everything as she is yours," she said. "Our daughter looks to you for comfort, advice, and guidance over all others because she trusts you and she values it. Do not question why that is or how it came to be, just enjoy it. You've earned it."_

_Severus nodded slowly and Elizabeth smiled subtly._

"_And though she's unlikely to admit it because she's your daughter through and through," she continued after a moment, "Zoe wants everyone else to see just how wonderful she knows you are. She wants you to _be_ as wonderful as she knows you are which is why her reactions to your classroom persona last term were so... less-than-constructive. It was a shock to her, I think."_

_Again, Severus nodded. He thought he'd worked much of that insight out on his own, but it was nice to hear it come from Elizabeth. It made him feel less…blind and unprepared—less alone—in this mad parenting endeavor he'd taken on._

_They grew silent after that, watching Zoe play some more. She was walking through the grass now, her hair billowing behind her in the wind, the waist of Severus's jumper skimming just above her knees. When she started to make her way back toward the cottage, Elizabeth moved to stand in front of him. She stood on the tips of her toes and delicately put her lips to his._

_But it was frustratingly brief._

"_You'll let her know that I love her?" Elizabeth asked, pulling away from him._

"_Of course."_

_Elizabeth smiled._

"_Minerva wasn't wrong about your ability to brew that serum. You should apologize. I like her."_

Then, in an instant, Elizabeth was gone and Severus awoke with a start to see a pair of crystal blue eyes staring eerily at him from the bed. Zoe lay on her side, completely still, with her hands pushed up under her head. After a moment, she blinked and took a shuddering breath, which somehow caused Severus to let out his own breath that he wasn't aware he had been holding; he was relieved that she'd come out of her fevered sleep once more.

"You were talking in your sleep," she said slowly as Severus noticed her eyes had changed back to her natural dark blue.

Severus arched an eyebrow at her. "What did I say?" he asked cautiously, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"You said Mum's name once. The rest was hard to understand."

Severus inclined his head, a bit thankful that that had been all. He stood then to sit on the edge of the bed. He put a hand to Zoe's forehead and the anxiousness about her condition returned full force. Her fever was still quite high, her breathing still seemed to be getting worse somehow, and she was clearly as weak as ever.

"Were you… dreaming about Mum too?" Zoe asked, her voice breathy and croaky.

Severus paused, trying to decide what to tell her.

"I suppose I was," he said finally.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"Perhaps later. How do you feel?"

Zoe smiled weakly at him. "I feel loads better."

Severus smirked in spite of himself. "Liar," he teased.

He summoned his leather potions kit to him and began pulling out her regular regimen of potions, trying to focus on her needs alone.

But his mind was reeling. Clearly, Zoe had returned to the Threshold when he'd given her the Dreamless Sleep potion hours before. It had been a test, really. If she'd awoken having not seen her mother, there was a chance that the first instance had been merely a dream.

Instead, his worst fears were being realized.

All he could do in that moment was make her comfortable and hope—_will_—that Caspar Goode managed to brew successfully the serum that was sure to make her better.

* * *

><p>"Where are we?" Zoe asked as her father rifled through his leather potions bag.<p>

She'd awoken in what appeared to be late morning to see him sleeping in the chair beside her bed and she'd been warmed by that thought—though she was still physically freezing. She'd watched him dozing, his chin touching his chest, and the lines on his face scrunched together as if he was worried about something, even in slumber. Now, they weren't much different. He still looked very worried—troubled—about something.

"These are my quarters," he answered her simply.

"Oh." Zoe allowed her eyes to look around with much more curiosity then. She shivered. "You've never…brought me h-here before. Why a-aren't we…in the…h-hospital wing?"

Her father glanced at her as he pulled vials from his kit. He seemed rather preoccupied, as if his thoughts were burdening him.

"For several days you've needed constant supervision. It was more convenient for me to care for you here than in the hospital wing."

"But why isn't Madam Pomfrey…looking after me?"

"Because…" Her father huffed loudly. He pulled a small vial from his bag and laid it on the sheet beside Zoe. He eyed her tiredly. "Why must you ask so many questions?"

"Because…I'm ex-excruciatingly curious," Zoe managed to say. Her breathing feeling so very labored.

Her father snorted in mild amusement. It was a good sign in her mind. A sign that, even for just a moment, she'd helped to lighten his anxious mood. "Indeed… Who told you that?"

"Professor Longb-bottom. You didn't answer my question."

Her father glared at her tiredly.

"For your information, Madam Pomfrey has been here several times, but she isn't the only person in this castle qualified to care for an ill child. It should also be noted that something of an epidemic has broken out. Therefore, the matron has a full hospital wing of patients to oversee at the moment and, unlike them, you have been quarantined owing to the fact that you are not responding as well as we would like to the typical potions administered to elven influenza patients—"

"Why?" Zoe asked curiously. Her father gave her a half-hearted scowl again for interrupting him. Zoe quieted as he sighed.

"We don't know. It is something of a mystery. Professor Goode and I have been working to research, identify, and counteract whatever element in the potions your body is nullifying. Also…" Zoe's father looked down and started going through his kit once more. "I am your father. It is perfectly within my right to monitor your condition from wherever I so choose," he stated irritably.

Zoe, not knowing what to say, simply nodded.

Her father continued to pull vials of potions from his bag and place them on the sheets beside Zoe before finally pulling a bezoar from a box. He then sealed up his kit and placed it on the floor. He handed the small stone to Zoe.

"A bezoar?"

"_Calculus bovis_, to be exact," her father said. "Swallow it, please."

"What's this for?" Zoe asked, perplexed. "I thought these were…used for… for soaking up p-poisons."

Her father raised an eyebrow at her and Zoe thought she saw a proud gleam in his eyes.

"Very astute," he said. "Yes, they can indeed save you when you've been poisoned, but bezoars have other—less commonly known—uses."

"Such as?" Zoe prompted curiously.

"Such as causing first years to question their fathers and not do as they're told," her father snapped.

"Papa…"

Her father sighed heavily and, after a few moments of glaring at her wearily, he spoke, giving in to the battle of wills.

"Certain types of bezoars also have the ability to flush toxins from the body. I believe—and Madam Pomfrey quite agrees—that by purging your body of any undesired contaminants you may have acquired naturally over your life, your immune system will have a better chance of fighting the influenza."

"Is this the first bezoar you've given me?"

"No, it is the third."

"So… is it working so far?" Zoe asked skeptically.

Her father rolled his eyes. "More questions," he grumbled. "It will make you feel better. Just swallow it."

"Yes, sir," Zoe said, surveying the stone briefly before placing it in her mouth and swallowing. After a moment, she felt slightly better—a bit less…heavy and shivery.

Her father started unstoppering several vials and placing them on the table beside the bed: Pepperup Potion, some sort of blood-cleansing serum, more Strengthening Solution, and half a dozen other liquids that he assured her would ease her nausea and shaky limbs and hopefully bring her fever down a bit. Zoe was too exhausted to remember all the names of the potions; she would ask her father about them later.

It also became apparent rather quickly that Zoe was too weak to take any of the potions herself. Her hands were shaking with such force that the first vile, containing Anti-Nausea, tumbled from her grasp to spill out onto the duvet. Her father quickly sorted it and then took it upon himself to tip the potions into his daughter's mouth, holding her head up off the pillows so that she wouldn't choke.

After gulping down the final potion, she tried to turn onto her side again and winced as her muscles screamed to remain sedentary.

"Papa…," she whimpered, her face contorted in pain, as a single tear rolled down her cheek unhindered.

He looked down on her and the look in his eyes was haunting. "I know. The pain potion takes several minutes to take effect. You must try to lie still."

He reached behind her for another pillow and placed it under her raised left shoulder. Zoe relaxed into it and felt much better. She could better look at her father this way also.

"I just remember walking into the Great Hall with Lottie. Then everything sort of went all fuzzy," she expounded after a moment or two.

"Yes," her father said, checking her vitals once more, waving his wand around. "You collapsed in the Great Hall during breakfast on Monday. It takes only a few hours for elven influenza to take hold. I imagine you felt slightly ill when you awoke that morning?"

Zoe nodded, but then wrinkled her brow. "Monday? What day is it now?"

Her father visibly cringed and it seemed like it took a great amount of effort for him to say his next word.

"Saturday."

Zoe's eyes widened and she bolted up. "Saturday! But that's… _six days_!" She was so flabbergasted, she forgot about her painful limbs. She winced, however, when her aches sharpened, causing her to remember them.

Once more, her father pushed her back to the pillows.

"Lie still," he scolded.

"But…what happened? How could I have been… been asleep for _six_ _days_?" Zoe asked frantically, her breathing strained.

"Some of it has been a magically-induced state of unconsciousness," her father stated impatiently, waving his wand. A bubble formed around Zoe's mouth and nose then that appeared to be filled with a swirling, milky-colored cloud, but felt like pure, cool air.

"Calm down," he commanded when the bubble seemed to be to his standards. "I will not tell you again."

Zoe stilled but for the anxious wringing of her hands and the heavy heaves of breath her outburst had caused.

"I'm sorry, Papa. I just… I don— I don't understand."

Her father sighed heavily and his shoulders sagged slightly. "You've been very ill, Zoe," he said so softly Zoe barely recognized his voice. "You are still very ill."

Zoe nodded, finally calming. "What's this?" she asked, pointing at the bubble.

"It's a nebulizing bubble," her father stated. "It's filled with oxygen and a very low dose of colloidal silver. Deep breaths, it will help."

They were silent for a time after that as Zoe deeply inhaled the breathing medicine. Her father moved from the bed to sit in the chair where he had been sitting vigil over her while she'd been unconscious.

"Where…," Zoe croaked. She lost her breath for a moment, but then tried again. "Where did I get it?"

"Hmm?" her father asked, locking eyes with her again. He seemed to have been in his own world.

"El-Elven influenza. Where did I get it?"

Her father's features seemed to melt from anxious detachment to unmistakable guilt in a single second.

"It seems that I was exposed to it while overseas. Considering my own minor illness the night of my return and the next day, it's likely that you contracted it from me. It spread through Hogwarts from there."

Her father looked away from her the whole time he spoke and Zoe could just sense that he blamed himself for her current state as well as the implied illnesses of other students and staff.

Determined, Zoe moved her body closer to the side of the bed, ignoring her sore muscles and the wheeziness she felt in her chest even with the nebulizing bubble. She reached out her hand.

Her father moved forward in his chair to stop her, but as soon as she stopped moving, he paused as well, looking down at her hand, perplexed. It only took a moment, however, before he understood that she wanted him to take it. So, he did, giving her cold, frail fingers a light squeeze.

Zoe looked him in the eye, willing her eyes to turn black.

"It's not your fault, Papa," she said simply. She gave him a small smile, which he returned after the shock of her statement had worn off his face.

They didn't talk much after that. Her father said he wanted her to rest so as not to strain her lungs or throat anymore, both of which were inflamed from her illness. After two hours of listening to her father read from Zoe's choice of Jane Austen (with much eye-rolling and snide remarks regarding the "silly actions of lovelorn women"), he rose, taking from the table beside the bed a small tin, which he opened, revealing a translucent salve.

With a wave of his wand, the nebulizing bubble popped. He pulled the duvet away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and pulled both of Zoe's socks from her feet.

"It's cold, Papa," Zoe complained, though she was too weak to do much more than observe his actions.

"I will return the covers in a moment. Madam Pomfrey should be coming by soon and I'd like not to hear her lecture me on your continued wheezing, which can be slightly alleviated."

"What about the bubble?"

Her father shook his head. "It can only be used for a breathing attack as you just had. I do not feel comfortable giving you more than one dose of colloidal silver a day."

He took a glob of the salve from the tin, picked up Zoe's right leg, and began rubbing the salve onto the sole of her foot. Even through her congestion, Zoe could smell heavy amounts of eucalyptus and menthol.

"That tickles," Zoe said breathily. Her father merely smirked.

When her father had covered both feet with the salve, he replaced her socks and covered her back up.

"How does that feel?" he asked, taking a seat in the chair once more.

Zoe did her best to take a deep breath and, although it wasn't nearly normal, the salve made breathing a bit less labored, almost as much as the nebulizing bubble had. Her relief must have been evident on her face for she didn't even need to say anything for her father to give a satisfied tilt of his head.

"It'll have to be reapplied regularly, but at least that's one symptom somewhat eased," he seemed to say to himself, still standing over her.

* * *

><p>It was one symptom eased, for sure, but a bit of eucalyptus salve on her feet would hardly make her well. Severus grew more frustrated by the minute watching his daughter suffer through this illness.<p>

Poppy Pomfrey came by his quarters less than an hour later and, though Zoe was alert and talking, the school's Healer still had no prognosis for him. The girl wasn't really getting any worse, but she wasn't entirely starting to get well either. The battle her body was fighting against the influenza was raging, as was evident in her fever, coughing, lack of strength, and mild delirium, but diagnostic spells proved inconclusive aside from identifying the influenza. They just had to continue to wait.

This did not sit well with Severus; he could not handle the feeling of helplessness and this treating-the-symptoms tactic they'd been using was getting Zoe nowhere.

So, although he had vowed not to leave his daughter's side after her foray onto the Threshold, when she became magically comatose from the number of potions he and Madam Pomfrey had administered, Severus placed an analytic charm on her that would inform him if her condition changed even slightly, and he exited his quarters. With the final words Elizabeth had spoken to him ringing in his memory, he felt the sudden urge to check on Caspar Goode.

His determination came to a grounding halt when he stepped out of his office and into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom only to see an infuriatingly familiar student hunched over the teacher's desk at the front of the room.

"Potter!" Severus bellowed, his eyes narrowed as he snapped the door to his office closed, startling the boy, who quickly stood up at attention.

"What is your purpose here?"

James Potter looked away from him, no doubt trying quickly to fabricate a story he thought Severus gullible enough to believe.

"I, er, I misplaced my Defense book, Professor," the boy lied, stepping away from the desk, making his way toward the exit. "I thought I may have left it here after class yesterday."

"And you believe your book to be on my desk?" Severus asked condescendingly.

The boy merely shrugged, still moving in the direction of the door, widening the gap between teacher and student.

"Stop right there," Severus commanded. The boy did as he was told and Severus stalked toward him, standing tall and intimidating over the black-haired menace.

"It is Saturday. Students are not permitted in classrooms during the weekends without prior written approval," Severus stated the rules. "Furthermore, your excuse holds no weight. Professors Lupin and Flitwick have been covering Defense classes in their respective classrooms since Monday. Had you misplaced your book this week, it would be in one of those two places, not here. Care to try again?"

Again, Potter shrugged, looking away from his professor for a moment.

"Not really," he said finally, locking eyes with Severus. "So…detention?"

Severus glared as his jaw tightened in aggravation with the boy's nonchalance and cheek. But, frankly, he didn't have the patience or the inclination to deal with the child now. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Get out of my sight," he said calmly, but forcefully, waving his hand to shoo the boy away. Potter exited without another word.

Shaking his head, he continued out of the room to make his way to the dungeons.

Upon entering the Potions classroom, he found Caspar Goode hunched over a cauldron, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a sheen of sweat upon his brow. The Potions professor acknowledged Severus's presence with a nod of his head before adding a pinch of dry, powdered lobelia to what Severus recognized as the normal elven influenza potion.

As soon as he had stirred the required seventeen times, he put a stasis spell upon the cauldron and focused on Severus.

"How is Zoe?" he asked, his tone concerned.

"She's still stable but she is not progressing as we would like."

This information seemed genuinely to wound Goode, who closed his eyes and exhaled strongly.

"I'm deeply sorry, Severus. I keep ruining the serum."

Severus shook his head, hoping the gesture would rid the other wizard of any sort of guilt. "You have my gratitude merely for attempting. Few Potions Masters get it right their first dozen attempts, or so I've been reading."

After a moment, Goode nodded his head.

"Perhaps you'd like to show me how it's done?" he asked. It wasn't a passive aggressive query, but inviting. He seemed sincerely to want to get it right so that Zoe could get well.

Severus clasped his hands behind his back nervously and looked away from his colleague.

"I've…never brewed this particular potion," he said, his eyes darting back to Goode to gauge the man's reaction to this news.

Goode let out an amused breath. "I'm sure you'd still brew circles around any of my attempts."

Severus shook his head again. "Minerva tells me the temperature fluctuations are what are holding you up."

Goode nodded. "You have to make an adjustment nearly every two minutes while adding various ingredients simultaneously. It's bloody infuriating."

Severus nodded, thinking. He took a deep breath.

"During my Mastery, I once read an account of a pair of potioneers in Taiwan who worked side-by-side to concoct single potions. These potioneers worked almost exclusively in secret—so much so that their work is regarded as something of a myth, despite widespread use of their concoctions in present day. Yet, considering the origins of the wizards and of this particular serum, I can't help but wonder if it would be best brewed in tandem."

A light bulb seemed to turn on for Goode. He stood from his stool, his eyes wide, and walked toward a cauldron simmering on a workbench on the other side of the room.

"I prepared the base of the serum early this morning, but got caught up in brewing more of the potion. Poppy has had seven more confirmed cases of influenza since midnight so I wanted to make sure she was fully stocked," he explained quickly. He nodded toward the cauldron he'd been working with when Severus arrived. "That has three hours before anything more can be done with it so, if we start now, we could at least attempt to complete a batch of serum—together."

Severus saw the determination in the other wizard's face and he inclined his head, beyond grateful that the man was so willing to put so much effort into helping his daughter.

He walked across the room, throwing off his outer robes and beginning to roll up the sleeves of his white linen shirt. Once beside Goode, he pulled the potions text that contained the instructions for the serum toward him.

"Allow me a few minutes to familiarize myself with the formula," he requested.

"Of course," Goode said as he began preparing and arranging the necessary components of the brew on the workbench beside the cauldron.

* * *

><p>Severus walked briskly into the Defense classroom less than two hours later, a full, glass pipette filled with the completed serum stowed safely within his robes.<p>

It had been, quite possibly, the most tasking potion he'd ever brewed—more complicated than Wolfsbane and the Draught of Living Death combined—but, together, the two Potion Masters had managed to brew a size-two cauldron's worth of the viscous serum. It was likely enough to end the epidemic of influenza cases within Hogwarts walls and then some.

As he made his way toward his office and the entrance to his quarters, he passed by his desk and noticed a small, silver envelope sitting upon it. Curious, Severus slowed his gait and approached in order to read the words written on the outside.

_For Zoe_, it read in a tidy, cramped scrawl.

Wrinkling his brow, he snatched up the envelope and ripped it open. If that good-for-nothing Gryffindor had sent his daughter some ill-intentioned prank, Severus would see to it the boy never set another step inside Hogwarts Castle.

He slowly pulled out the card within and when it wasn't immediately followed with some sort of explosion or other such nonsense, he set it upon the desk and took his wand from his robes. He started with the envelope, casting jinx indication charms and attempting to detect any kind of untoward substance on or within the thick, silvery parchment. When that proved clean, he moved on to the card, which also appeared to be innocent and ordinary.

Perplexed, Severus pocketed his wand, snatched the card from his desk, and opened it.

_Zoe,_

_I hope you get better really soon. I had elf flu when I was nine and it was pants. Mum and Dad even took me to St. Mungo's and I had to stay there for two days. John told me that your dad got you a Jetstream for Christmas. That's wicked! When you're well, maybe I could show you some Quidditch moves._

_Anyway, see you soon_.

_James_

Severus was even more confused having read the short message in the card than he'd been before. Were Zoe and James Potter…_friends_?

The boy had asked about her when he'd seen Severus following the attack on Spinner's End, but Severus had figured that was merely curiosity. The boy had wanted to gloat that he knew of their relationship before the rest of the wizarding world did… or so he'd thought. He hadn't expected what appeared to be sincere concern for Zoe.

And Zoe hadn't mentioned James at all.

Severus turned back toward his office then.

Perhaps she would be just as perplexed as her father. After all, there was no way Potter would possibly think to give an ill person a get-well card unless he had been coerced or threatened—perhaps by his grandmother—or dared by another of his heathen friends. Even Lottie and Zoe's Ravenclaw friends hadn't sent her cards or gifts.

Granted, none had been given the opportunity.

Severus had been absent from classes entirely and had rarely ventured out of his quarters since Zoe had fallen ill, so they couldn't possibly have left anything for her without the necessary nerve of entering the locked Defense classroom without permission.

James Potter, of course, certainly had such nerve.

Severus tried to expel his confusion from his mind for the time being for he could ask Zoe about all this at a later time. For now, all that mattered was getting her healthy again.

Upon entering the bedroom in his quarters, Severus saw that the girl was still fast asleep, her breathing labored again. He couldn't give her the serum until she was conscious, however. Therefore, he sat on the edge of the bed and reapplied the eucalyptus salve to her feet. Then he began exercising the muscles and joints of her arms and legs.

Madam Pomfrey had expressed that day that the week's worth of confinement to the bed was likely to have an adverse effect on Zoe's body without regular use, so Severus made sure to bend her knees and ankles, elbows and wrists, back and forth several times. It was a tedious process, but as he moved Zoe's right leg in a circular motion at the hip, he felt a sense of contentment knowing that, once the serum could be administered, she'd be getting well very soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Please review. You really have no idea how much it improves my day to hear from people who are reading and enjoying my stories. Even if you hate it or have some criticism, I enjoy hearing from you. Have a wonderful day!<strong>_


	30. Recovery

_**Hello, everyone! As promised, I won't leave you waiting too long for this third chapter. Please enjoy it. From here on out, I have less of the story written, though the timeline is all laid out. So, it may be quite a bit of time between updates. However, I WILL FINISH THIS STORY. You have no idea how much of a failure I'd feel if I didn't. I'd feel like I had betrayed my beloved Zoe and Severus.**_

_**So, enjoy this chapter and I will immediately get cracking on the next and try not to keep you waiting too long.**_

_**:)**_

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery<strong>

Zoe awoke and immediately noticed the darkness. The curtains over the windows were drawn, but she could just sense that it was the middle of the night. The only light in the large bedroom was a single oil lamp burning on the table beside the bed. Distantly, Zoe could hear the crackles of a dwindling fire in the other room. Other than that, it was quiet.

Curious where her father was, she did her best to sit up, but her head pounded and spun, making it difficult to keep a grasp of her bearings. Subsequently, she managed to lean over the side of the bed just in time to retch on the floor.

Once she expelled the meager contents of her stomach, she sat back against the pillows, panting from exertion. She was just trying to catch her breath so that she could call out.

"Papa!" she tried to shout, frustrated that the word hadn't been even remotely as loud as she would have liked. It had also caused her chest to feel heavy and constricted.

Zoe rested for another few moments before taking another deep breath. "Pa—"

"He's sleeping, Zoe. Quiet. Don't wake him."

Startled, Zoe turned her head to see Madam Pomfrey coming from the on-suite bathroom carrying a basin with several folded towels thrown over her shoulder. She came forward, set the basin upon the bedside table, and cleared up Zoe's sick on the floor with a single wave of her wand. She looked down on Zoe.

"How are you feeling, dear?"

"Rotten," Zoe grumbled, closing her eyes as she tried to will away the pounding in her head. "Why is Papa asleep?"

Madam Pomfrey let out an exasperated breath of air. "I imagine it is because he's tired. He's been caring for you all week without adequate rest. I'd be surprised if he's slept more than an hour or two at a time."

Zoe didn't respond to that. She wanted to see her father, but she didn't want to be so selfish as to wake him when he was so exhausted.

"Why… why are you h-here so late?" she asked as Madam Pomfrey threw the duvet off her.

"This is the first opportunity I've had to check on you today. But I'm really only here to change the sheets and give you a bath."

Zoe's eyes went wide. "A what?!" she asked, alarmed.

"A bath, dear," the mediwitch said impatiently. "A sponge bath, to be precise, since it's better that you remain in bed."

Zoe, even in her weakness, found the strength to shake her head with conviction.

"No, that's okay. I don't— I don't need one."

"Nonsense. You've been lying in this bed for a week. You'll feel better once you're washed and in clean pajamas," Madam Pomfrey said, moving her hands toward the buttons at the neck of Zoe's nightgown.

Zoe managed to push her hands away and tried to squirm toward the other side of the bed. "I'll t-take a shower…when I'm well, I promise," she bargained breathily.

This only served to make Madam Pomfrey purse her lips in disapproval and give Zoe a very stern look. The elderly witch put her hands on her hips.

"I had many years of experience with that stubbornness from your father long before you were so much as a glimmer in his eye. It will do little to deter me from what needs to be done, I assure you," she stated. "If it's your sense of modesty that you wish to keep intact, I promise there is nothing you have that I've not seen a thousand times before."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste at the matron's statement. "I just don't…think I need a bath," she said, knowing it was a weak argument.

Needless to say, Zoe lost that particular battle and half an hour later, she found her freshly-washed self in a pair of her own pale pink pajamas and tucked into a bed with crisp, newly-laundered sheets.

Of course, Madam Pomfrey had had an unfair advantage the whole time. After all, Zoe was ill and weak. She couldn't effectively fight off nor run from the matron's ministrations, as she would have been able to had she been entirely well.

Nonetheless, Zoe did feel slightly better now that she was clean, but she'd never admit that.

"Hold out your tongue," Madam Pomfrey instructed then.

"What?" Zoe asked, wrinkling her brow.

Madam Pomfrey was holding a glass pipette in her hand, waiting for Zoe to comply. Upon Zoe's response and lack of acquiescence, she stood upright and rolled her eyes.

"For Merlin's sake, must you question every request?"

"Why do you want me to hold out my tongue?" Zoe asked, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's question entirely.

The mediwitch pursed her lips again. "Your father and Professor Goode have managed to procure the anti-elven influenza serum. It will help immensely to speed along your recovery and make you well."

"But what about all those other potions… and the bezoar? Weren't those…supposed to make me well?"

Madam Pomfrey huffed in exasperation. "They were not as effective as we had hoped they'd be."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, but stuck out her tongue anyway. Madam Pomfrey then placed two drops of the serum onto her tongue. It looked like treacle and, to her surprise, rather tasted like it as well.

"Now," Madam Pomfrey said, tucking the covers in around Zoe and fluffing her pillows needlessly. "I'm off to the hospital wing to see to my other patients."

Zoe nodded as the mediwitch gathered her things.

"Even if you can't sleep just yet, do not even think about waking your father, do you hear me?" she asked sternly. "He needs his rest as well."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Zoe responded, resentful that the woman had felt the need to reiterate that point.

Though she stared up at the canopy of her father's bed for what felt like hours, Zoe did, eventually, fall back to sleep. She awoke the next morning knowing that she'd dreamt of her mother once again and, though it had been very vivid, it hadn't felt as real as the previous two times. In fact, her mother hadn't even spoken to her; she'd merely smiled adoringly at Zoe no matter Zoe's best efforts to get her mum to respond to questions.

Zoe hadn't even noticed her father in the room until he leaned forward in his chair to feel her forehead.

"You still have a fever, but it seems to finally be receding," he said, relief evident in his tone.

Zoe didn't respond, she merely looked at her father. Despite Madam Pomfrey telling her that he had slept, Zoe didn't feel that that fact was reflected in his face or mannerisms at all. He still looked exhausted as he pulled the serum pipette from his robes to give her another dose.

After she'd had her medicine, Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room unannounced, fussing over Zoe's improved coloration before making her father leave the room so that she could assist Zoe in making use of the loo.

Soon, however, it was just Zoe and her father once again. He sat in the chair reading the defense book Zoe had given him for his birthday. He wasn't reading aloud, which was making Zoe's time confined to bed rather boring. Though, it was giving her time to reflect on everything she'd experienced with her mother over the last few days.

She wished she knew more about her, more about what her life had been like before she'd died. Zoe desperately wished that she could have grown up with her mother, had gotten to know her personality and interests, just like she had with her father.

But she couldn't. That would never be something she could do and she knew she had to accept that.

However, the man sitting beside her bed could possibly give her just the knowledge that she yearned for.

She let out an unwanted yawn then causing her father to close his book and rise from his chair. She felt an instant sense of betrayal on the part of her weak, ill body. She didn't want him to go while this was so acutely on her mind.

"I'll let you rest," he said quietly.

Zoe didn't know why she had suddenly been having all these vivid dreams about her mother, but as her father walked across the bedroom, she knew that if she didn't ask him her questions now, she might lose her nerve later on and she didn't want this subject to be something that was swept under the rug simply because it never felt like the opportune time to bring it up.

"Papa," she called to him, making her decision in an instant. "How come we never talk about Mum?"

Her father froze halfway through the door and after only a moment of hesitation, turned to face her. He looked at Zoe with a pained expression and, somehow, she felt that her father had been anticipating her question and, at the same time, been dreading it.

He looked to the floor momentarily then sighed and walked back to his chair, collapsing down next to Zoe. She watched his face and, where his expression was typically impassive or agitated, his angular features lined into a scowl, Zoe now saw a softening, an apprehension. Her father, in fact, looked quite unsure of himself.

Finally, he looked into her eyes completely.

"I suppose I wasn't aware that you had a desire to discuss her," he said.

Zoe wrinkled her forehead. She didn't know what kind of an answer she had expected from him, but that one didn't seem to fit. Somehow, she had always been more of the opinion that her father was the one who never wanted to talk about Zoe's mother and not the other way around. After all, she had asked questions before and gotten very roundabout answers or no answers at all. Even now, Zoe had the impression that the topic made him not only uncomfortable, but regretful and sad.

Zoe did her best to sit up on the bed so that she could better hold a conversation, ignoring her aching muscles and her father's disapproving frown.

"I don't even know what she looked like, not really," she said softly. She could feel her tears forming at the back of her eyes. "I just know how I saw her in my dreams."

Her father merely stared at her.

"Her hair was similar in color and style to yours, though not as long. She was athletically slim and her eyes were a sky blue color."

Zoe's father trailed off then, looking beyond Zoe. When he had started to describe Zoe's mum, his words had been generic, almost cold yet, he'd seemed to fall into some sort of reminiscence as he'd listed her attributes.

"How did you meet her?" Zoe asked.

Her father locked eyes with his daughter once more and paused.

"We can talk about this at another time," he said, shaking his head and standing again.

"But I want to talk now," Zoe whined.

"You need your rest."

"I'm not tired. All I do is sleep. Besides, is it really going to…to make me any better?" Zoe countered hotly, trying not to let her lack of breath hinder the frustration in her voice.

Her father frowned.

"It certainly doesn't lack the possibility of improvement. And ill or not, your tone certainly leaves much to be desired, young lady," he scolded.

"But only the…the serum will make me better and it t-takes a few…days no matter what. You said so…yourself."

Zoe set her father with a stubborn stare. He had to concede that she had a point. Eventually, he resumed his seat with as much dignity as he could after having his own words thrown back at him by an eleven-year-old.

He sat forward in his chair and smoothed a portion of the duvet with a hand before taking a deep breath and sitting back in his chair.

"We met rather…_haphazardly_," he began. "I escorted your mother home from a pub one night."

Zoe nodded, listening intently. She didn't want her father to stop talking.

"She was rather intoxicated…"

"Mum drank?" Zoe asked, surprised. Her father looked at her with annoyance, probably because of the interruption. He seemed to think for a moment before he spoke again.

"Zoe, I think it would be best that you not aggrandize your mother in your mind. She was not any more or less remarkable than any other person. She was normal with normal faults. Yes, she indulged in a glass of spirits from time to time, though it was hardly a common occurrence. She was very concerned with being rational and in control…most of the time…"

Zoe looked away with tears welling in her eyes, upset that her father had just reprimanded her for wanting to think the world of her mother. She was a bit angered as well.

Despite his tendency toward pragmatism—as her mother had explained—Zoe didn't understand how he could honestly not expect her to "aggrandize" her mum, as he'd called it, when she'd had next to no information about the woman her entire life. Other than the knowledge that she had been a Muggle and a doctor, Zoe was clueless. She had no basis by which to think of her mother other than what she had fantasized her being and, of course, like any child, her default was to want to think the very best of the woman who had given birth to her.

Her father must have sensed her melancholy and felt remorseful for he placed his hand on her knee causing Zoe to look back at him. She couldn't hold back the tears from spilling over her eyelids then and she pulled away from him defensively, ignoring the nausea that swept over her as she pushed herself farther against the pillows and turned onto her other side away from him.

Her father remained quiet for a while and when Zoe heard him stand and start walking toward the foot of the bed, she assumed he was leaving the room. Instead, he came around to the opposite side of the bed, levitating the chair with him. He sat down in her line of sight and Zoe frowned at him.

"It is rather difficult to talk with you when you turn petulantly from me," he said, though his tone wasn't harsh. It was more resigned.

"Why should I look at you?" Zoe countered as loudly as she could, her breath slightly hitched. "You're being awful."

Her father stared at her and Zoe stared right back at him, her admittedly-fatigued eyes all conviction. Finally, he sighed.

"All right, Zoe," he conceded. "You have my apologies. Of course, I have no right to dispel your impressions of your mother for I haven't exactly been forthcoming about her qualities or character with you over the years. But if you'll allow me, I shall tell you as much as I can. And I encourage you to ask whatever questions you would like about her. I will do my best to answer them."

Zoe blinked away her tears then nodded. She started to sit up again, but winced. Her father rose to his feet and reached to feel her forehead.

"Your fever is rising again. How do you feel?"

"Queasy," Zoe said, sinking into the pillows. "It's hard to breathe."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey believes that you have developed pneumonia on top of the influenza."

Zoe screwed up her face in frustration. "Great," she said acerbically. She was getting really sick of being, well, sick.

Her father pulled his wand from his robes and summoned two vials of potion from the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. He unstoppered them.

"Anti-nausea potion," he stated, handing the vial to Zoe who took it, sipping it slowly.

Her father waited patiently. When she'd finished and given the vial back, he handed her the second.

"This is the only potion I can give you while the serum is in your system that has any potential of bringing down your fever, but it will make you sleep," he cautioned.

"Will you…answer my questions until I f-fall asleep?" Zoe asked. Her father nodded curtly. "And when I wake up again?"

"Yes," her father said impatiently. "Take your potion."

Zoe nodded and downed it in one gulp, she then settled herself down again as her father waved his wand, creating the nebulizing bubble around her mouth and nose once more. When her breathing eased some, he resumed his seat.

"What was the pub called?" Zoe asked. "The one where you m-met Mum, I mean."

Her father shook his head. "I don't remember."

"Sure you do," she pressed.

"What does it matter what the pub was called?"

"Papa," Zoe said, glaring at him, imploring him to _try_ to remember.

Her father sighed and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes. Zoe watched him. He just _had_ to remember.

"The Lazy Fox," he finally said softly, gazing back at Zoe. "It was in Kensington, only a few streets from your mother's flat. I was meeting Minerva there so that she could try to coerce me back to teach at Hogwarts and, as I recall, she chose the place for its proximity to an acceptable Apparition point. The bartender was appallingly uncouth and unhygienic as well…"

"Papa, I just wanted to know the name," Zoe giggled. She coughed a bit from the lack of breath.

"Right," her father said, obviously slightly perturbed by his forth righted digress.

"What kind of doctor was Mum?"

"A pediatrician."

"What's that?"

"A Healer— Excuse me, a doctor that specializes in children. She was very fond of babies, in particular, as I recall."

Zoe nodded and let out a giant yawn.

"She would have liked me then."

Her father's expression changed slightly at those words, but Zoe was getting too sleepy to try to decipher it. He gave a subtle nod.

"What else?" she asked.

Her father's eyebrows knitted together and, again, Zoe couldn't entirely understand the expression that crossed his face; it was almost as if he was trying to remember and trying to forget at the same time.

"Perhaps this conversation would progress better if you asked me specific questions," he said.

Zoe burrowed deeper into the pillow and yawned again. She knew the potion was taking her but she wanted to fight it for she didn't know if her father would be this forthcoming again, despite his promise.

"What was she like? Was she clever?"

Zoe's father nodded.

"Yes, very intelligent. Very philosophical, very political. She was exceptionally stubborn. Once she set her mind to something, there was no swaying her." He eyed Zoe knowingly. "Much like someone else I know."

Zoe smiled weakly as her eyelids drooped further.

"Was she—?"

* * *

><p>Severus smirked.<p>

Zoe had valiantly fought against the potion but it had always been a losing battle. He rose and tucked his daughter's arms under the blanket before vanishing the nebulizing bubble. Her fever would break in an hour or two and there was no doubt in his mind that more questions would come when she awoke. He stood back and looked down on her.

"Your mother would have _loved_ you," he said aloud. "As fiercely as I do."

* * *

><p>Hours later—late evening—Zoe was propped against the headboard of the bed, pillows all around her to keep her stable. A tray with a bowl of soup sat in front of her. It was difficult to eat but, despite the shakiness of her arm, she refused to let her father feed her. So, it was a slow process.<p>

It didn't bother her, however, for it gave her time to ask her father more questions between spoonfuls of broth and softened vegetables.

"Did Mum name me or did you?" Zoe asked.

"I am unaware of whether or not your mother had settled on a name for you before you were born. When you came to me, Madam Hinkle informed me that the Muggle nurses had taken to calling you _Missy_." He said the name with a disdainful sneer and Zoe didn't blame him. She wrinkled her nose at the undesirable moniker. "Therefore, I named you."

Zoe nodded. "That's why I'm named after Mum. And… Ophelia was my grandmother?"

"Your great grandmother—my mother's mother—Ophelia Prince."

"So… where did Zoe come from?"

Her father looked away from her for several moments. When he turned his head back to her, he merely shrugged.

"It was always a name I rather liked."

Zoe smiled at him, loving his answer.

They were silent for several minutes as Zoe sipped at her soup. When she felt full, she pushed the tray away and her father immediately banished it back to the kitchens. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her vitals once more.

"When I turn them black, we have the same eyes," Zoe observed to him as he took her pulse.

Her father looked into the aforementioned eyes and nodded. "Yes, you inherited the shape from me."

"Who did my ears come from?" Zoe asked then, lifting her hair from one so her father could see it.

"I'm afraid those came from me as well. Your mother's were a bit more…subtle."

Zoe allowed her hair to fall back down over her ear and she pointed at her nose.

"Clearly, that's your mother's," her father said dryly, pointing at his own nose for comparison.

Zoe giggled and put her finger to her cheek.

"Your face?" he asked, confused.

"Freckles," Zoe responded.

"Your mother," her father said.

"My hair's like Mum's," Zoe stated. "What about…" She pointed at her knees.

"Skinny, knobby knees," her father noted, squeezing one through the blanket. "Most definitely a Snape trait."

Zoe nodded and pointed to her hands. Her father looked down at his own hands and held a palm up toward Zoe, who placed her own, much smaller palm against his.

"You have the delicacy of your mother's hands, but the length of your fingers comes from me."

"I'm such a mixture," Zoe said good-naturedly.

"Many children are," her father said simply.

He stood then.

"Time to sleep. It's nearly midnight."

"Do I have to?" Zoe asked, though she snuggled down into the blankets and sunk into the pillows. She fought it, but the illness still made her quite sleepy for the majority of the day and night.

"Yes," was all her father said as he laid his hand briefly and affectionately on her head. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Papa," Zoe yawned as her father strode to the door. She saw him turn to look at her briefly, but as Zoe closed her eyes, he left, leaving the door ajar in case Zoe had need of him during the night.

* * *

><p>Days passed and his daughter's condition steadily improved with regular doses of the anti-elven influenza serum. Severus was beyond elated. By the thirteenth day, the influenza had been nearly eradicated from her system so the days became a battle to fight the pneumonia that had settled into her chest. Zoe was still weak as well, but she had progressed to spending most of the day awake, at the very least.<p>

"I want to get up," Zoe stated around mid-morning on the second Sunday of her illness.

"Well, you're not getting up," Severus responded resolutely as his eyes skimmed over an article from _The Daily Prophet_. Minerva had slipped the single page of the periodical to him at breakfast thinking he would be interested in the rather troubling account of the disappearance of Cyrus Yaxley who seemed to have slipped out of the Ministry's surveillance.

"I'm feeling much better," Zoe persisted, sitting up straight against the pillows of the bed.

Severus turned his eyes on his daughter, looking at her through the lenses of his rectangular glasses.

"You still have a fever."

"But it's only 101.4 today," she reasoned.

"Yes, a little more than half a degree below what it was yesterday."

"See? I'm getting better."

"No doubt."

"So, then, I can get up?" she asked, her eyes alit with hope.

"No."

Zoe became sullen then, giving a great sigh of frustration. "I'm bored. And I miss my friends," she said a few minutes later.

Severus inclined his head to show that he validated her feelings. "You'll see them soon."

Of course, Zoe hadn't been happy when, later in the day and after her daily, matron-mandated, bedbound exercises, Severus decided that she was well enough to start working on some of the schoolwork she'd been missing. Her rather incessant whinging despite her supposed boredom notwithstanding, she managed to soar through a week's worth of reading, work sheets, and three short essays in only two and a half days. She still had wand work to practice, but that would have to wait until her health had fully returned.

So, exactly two weeks and two days after Zoe had fallen ill, Severus called four students to his desk as the group of Ravenclaws and Slytherins he'd just been teaching filed out of the Defense classroom.

As Zoe's condition had steadily improved, he had picked up a few of his normal, lower-level classes—meaning first years. It was lucky because it gave him the opportunity to set in motion a reward for Zoe's diligence and hard work in the face of such odds and illness and do something for her that he never would have considered in the past…

But first, there was a matter of invitation…

John Thomas was clearly fidgeting. Severus wondered what he was hiding or feeling guilty of… Caroline Pitts and Glendora Fuchs looked confused and curious as to why their professor had called them forward. He could see the cogs of the Fuchs girl's brain moving as she tried to figure out what she had done to elicit such attention. Meanwhile, Lottie Wickham seemed merely inquisitive, though it was clear that she knew instantly what the four students called had in common. In fact, she didn't wait for Severus to speak before voicing what was on her mind.

"Is Zoe all right, Professor?" the girl asked. "We've been so worried."

Severus saw a light of recognition move across Thomas's eyes. Severus imagined the boy had forgotten that Zoe was, in fact, the daughter of the formidable Professor Snape and, now that he'd been reminded, he could rest easy knowing there was a chance that the wizard in front of them wasn't about to assign him a detention cleaning bedpans in the hospital wing. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that it was the Slytherin who had managed to display any amount of logic or intelligence versus the three Ravenclaws. Brightest of the houses, indeed…

Severus cleared his throat and addressed Lottie.

"Zoe is recovering well," he said succinctly.

All the children visibly sighed in relief.

"Could we see her, sir?" Caroline asked.

Severus turned his eyes on the girl and inclined his head. She smiled.

"That is why I have held you back. Zoe is getting steadily stronger in her recovery and, as such, is growing restless and longing for the companionship of her peers. Therefore, the four of you will accompany me to my quarters tonight—"

"_Your_ _quarters_?" Thomas interrupted, his jaw gaping open.

Severus leveled him with a severe glare.

"Yes, Mr. Thomas. _My_ quarters where my daughter—your classmate and friend—is currently convalescing. You will touch nothing and go nowhere you are not specifically escorted."

"Yes, sir," the boy quickly complied.

"As I was saying," Severus continued. "The four of you will meet me in this classroom tonight at seven o'clock sharp. You will be given two hours to visit and then escorted back to your respective common rooms at curfew. Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir," the group said collectively.

* * *

><p>Zoe was standing at the window of the bedroom looking out onto the dark grounds when there was a crisp knock on the door. Her eyes wide, she quickly sprinted across the wooden floor toward the bed, knowing both Madam Pomfrey and her father were sure to tell her off for being out of bed in nothing but her nightgown and her bare feet.<p>

She leapt onto the mattress and, as she hurriedly arranged the covers over herself, she called out: "Come in!"

She was reaching for a book and trying to control her still rapid, raspy breathing when her father walked in, closing the door behind him.

"Out of bed, I see," he said observantly as he walked forward to check her forehead for fever (as he seemed to do a thousand times a day).

"I'm not," Zoe defended.

"You were," he countered. "The rapid footfalls I heard from the other side of the door and your labored breathing have given you away. The exertion is doing nothing for your still recovering lungs, I might add."

Zoe looked down to her hands, knowing she was caught.

"I just wanted to look outside. I saw it snowing earlier."

Her father merely shook his head as he moved toward the wardrobe. Opening one of the doors, he extracted Zoe's dressing gown from a hook on the inside and walked toward her.

"You have guests," he said, holding the article out to her to put on.

"I do?" Zoe asked, taking the dressing gown from her father. She threw it around her shoulders and tied it, hiding the lower part of the garment under the blankets.

Her father inclined his head. "You are not to get out of this bed while they are here," he commanded. "If you find yourself growing fatigued or upset, you are to call for me and I will end the visitation. Do not overexert yourself."

"I'm feeling much better," Zoe said.

"As you keep saying… You are improving, but you are still quite ill," her father said, moving back toward the door. "And do try not to squeal."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, curious why her father had said that, as he opened the door and ushered whoever was waiting behind it into the bedroom.

Upon seeing her friends, Zoe couldn't contain her enthusiasm and she did precisely what her father had said not to: she squealed.

And she bounced excitedly on the mattress.

Caroline and Lottie both practically sprinted to Zoe, climbing onto the bed to tackle her into a group hug. Glendora patiently waited her turn with a handful of flowers clamped in her hand while John made himself comfortable by sitting down at the foot of the bed.

Once the group of friends had settled down and begun handing Zoe an assortment of get-well cards and sweets, Zoe noticed her father exit the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Caroline fussed the most about Zoe having been ill, flitting about adjusting the pillows and asking Zoe if she was all right every time she began to cough. Meanwhile, Glendora seemed concerned for Zoe's marks.

"You've been out of class for so long. However will you catch up?" she asked. "I'd hate to even try."

Zoe merely smiled and explained that she was actually almost completely on-track with the rest of her classmates. "I get a lot of reading in, being in bed all the time," she said and Glendora and the rest seemed to see the logic of that.

The conversation turned a bit darker then as John pulled a few copies of _The Daily Prophet_ out to show Zoe the headlines she'd missed in the last two weeks.

"Everyone's talking about how some of those Death Eaters they let out last term have gone missing," he said, pointing to the top of the paper, which read: _'Released Death Eaters Give Ministry the Slip'._

"Gone missing?" Zoe asked, confused. "How do they know they are missing?"

"They've all been on this magical sort of probation," Caroline explained. "They know they've gone missing because all the Aurors and Magical Law Enforcers they're linked to have…" She looked down and stopped talking, apparently too upset to continue.

"They've all come up dead," Lottie said.

"The Death Eaters killed the Aurors and MLEs? But… why?"

"They have to kill them in order to go missing," John explained. "My dad said that when an Azkaban prisoner is released, they have a certain amount of time where they are assigned to a law enforcement wizard for probation, just to keep an eye on them. They keep track of the released witch or wizard through a magical bond that connects them to the Auror or MLE. And the only way to give the Ministry the slip would be to kill them and sever the bond."

"That sounds like Dark magic," Zoe observed aloud. "The magical bond, I mean."

John merely shrugged.

"I suppose it's all about the intent of the spell," Lottie said. "Just like you said in Defense. The spell is intended to keep others safe, right? So, it's not considered Dark by the Ministry."

Zoe merely nodded, though she didn't entirely agree with the Ministry's rationality.

"This Yaxley fellow seems like bad news," John stated then, reading a bit of the article under the headline they'd all been discussing. "He infiltrated the Ministry back during the War. Dad says he can cast a really strong Imperius Curse."

"Yaxley?" Zoe asked.

John nodded.

"That name sounds familiar to me. I think I've met someone named Yaxley before."

Caroline's eyes went wide and she and John exchanged a look.

"Maybe it was a relative?" Glendora offered up.

"You probably just read it in the paper," John said, shaking his head. "I doubt Professor Snape would let you around old Death Eaters after the war."

Zoe shook her head, trying to clear it. "Maybe." Perhaps the circumstances of her recognition of the name would come to her later, when she wasn't thinking so hard on it.

"So… has Cecilia been horrid since… well, you know?" Zoe asked then.

Lottie shook her head. "She's been really distant lately, actually. Persimmon and Abby don't seem to know what to do without her leading them."

"She isn't teasing you?"

"No," Lottie said. "She hasn't said or done a thing to me since you hexed her."

"That's because she knows that Zoe'd hex her again if she did," John said sarcastically.

Zoe shook her head. "I wouldn't. Papa would kill me if I hexed anyone ever again, especially Cecilia."

"Did you get into a lot of trouble?" Caroline asked. "We never heard."

Zoe shrugged. "Detention," she said. "I guess I won't have it until after I'm well, though."

"Well, let's play Exploding Snap before Snape kicks us out," John said, pulling a deck of the magical cards out of his rucksack.

Several raucous games later, Zoe's father entered the bedroom to inform her friends that it was time to leave. He was gone for about twenty minutes as he escorted them to their respective common rooms and when he returned, Zoe was almost asleep. She'd never admit it, but the time with her friends, though highly enjoyable, had made her exceptionally tired.

"Thank you, Papa," she said quietly as her father used the _Aguamenti_ spell to fill a small glass that sat on the table beside the bed with water for her should she get thirsty in the middle of the night. He brought the wick down on the oil lamp as well, dulling the light from it.

He inclined his head. "Did you enjoy the time with your friends?" he asked.

Zoe nodded just as she let out a big yawn.

Her father nodded once, satisfied.

"Do not doze off just yet," he said. "I have something for you."

Zoe perked up. "You do?" she asked.

"As I recall, you requested that I bring you something back from my travels."

Zoe pushed herself up the pillows then, intrigued. She waited patiently as her father pulled from his robes a small, lumpy package, which he placed on the bed and used his wand to enlarge. Once it was back to its original size, he eyed Zoe expectantly, waiting for her to open it.

Zoe made short work of the plain brown paper and string, revealing a woolen item. Pulling it up, she realized it was a jumper. It was knitted and a pale green color, with a motif of white snowflakes across the bottom portion. It looked exceptionally warm.

"I was told that few souvenirs compared to Norwegian jumpers," her father said.

"It's so soft," Zoe said, putting the material to her face. "Thank you. I love it."

Her father gave her a small smile, pleased. "There's something else in there," he pointed out.

Zoe grinned and pulled the brown paper toward her again, shaking it until the other item fell out onto the duvet. She picked it up and met her father's eyes. "Oh, Papa," she said breathily. "It's so pretty."

In her hand, she held a thin metal bracelet. It was made of polished pewter, if she had to take a guess, and there were Scandinavian-looking runes lining the outside of it.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"It's an old protective symbol. Though, it's merely superstition. I did not purchase it in a magical shop so there are no spells attached to it."

Zoe shrugged. "It's still pretty. Thank you."

Her father nodded once. Then he seemed to hesitate before pulling a silver-colored envelope from his robes. He looked at it for a few moments before turning his eyes on her. He held the envelope up so that Zoe could read her own name on the front of it. He handed it to her.

"It's opened," Zoe observed as she took the envelope from her father.

"Yes… I felt it necessary to inspect the envelope and card within for jinxes."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Why?"

"I did not trust the sender."

Zoe merely gave her father a confused look as she lifted the flap on the envelope and pulled out a small card. After reading the note within and seeing who had written it, her eyes went wide and she glanced up to get her father's reaction. His face was impassive.

After several moments of silence, her father cleared his throat.

"Does this card come as a surprise to you at all?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Does it surprise you that Potter—"

"James," Zoe corrected.

Her father's eyebrows rose in astonishment. He modified his question. "Does it surprise you that James _Potter_ has sent you a get-well card?"

Zoe stared into her father's eyes for a long moment. Then she shrugged. "Not really."

"So, the two of you are… friends?"

Again, Zoe wrinkled her brow. "I don't know. I don't think so…. Maybe, but not really. I mean, he's nice to me when he isn't being a prat, but he's a prat quite a lot."

"I see," her father said, though he didn't seem to see at all.

"He always tells Louis to shut it when he tries to be mean to me just because I'm a Slytherin."

"Louis?" her father asked.

"Louis Weasley. James's cousin."

Her father nodded once. He had that look on his face, though, that Zoe knew to mean that her father had just added someone to his list of malcontents. Zoe felt rather bad about the petty detention her father would most likely assign Louis Weasley in the coming weeks.

"Are you angry?" Zoe asked cautiously.

Her father shook his head, but only subtly. "You are free to choose your friends," he said blandly. So blandly, in fact, that Zoe could tell that he wished that wasn't the case.

"But you don't like him," Zoe responded.

"Mr. Potter is hardly someone I'd prefer you associate with, that's true. He's a cheeky, self-centered troublemaker who believes himself above the rules."

Zoe nodded. "So, you don't want me to be friends with him?"

Her father seemed to pause. "If I were honest, I would prefer that you not. I believe your Slytherin and Ravenclaw friends to be acceptable choices."

"You don't even want me to talk to James?"

"Of course you may talk to him." His response was rather snappish as if her father was irritated just to be having this conversation. "I merely caution you around him. He is a bad influence and I do not wish for you to fall into objectionable habits."

"Like what?" Zoe asked curiously.

"Unhindered cheek, a lack of respect for authority, skiving classes, pranks. The list could go on and on," he said tersely.

Zoe merely nodded in concession. She did not wish to argue with her father. She also chose not to divulge to him that, at the very least, she considered James to be a useful ally. After all, he seemed to know quite a lot about her father and the war. And, even though he didn't know it yet, she intended to obtain James's help in researching her father's past as soon as she was well.

As her father stood to leave the room for the night, however, Zoe couldn't help but voice the question that was on her mind.

"Do you think Mum would have approved of James as my friend?"

Though it appeared to pain her father, the answer he gave her seemed to be the genuine truth.

"I imagine your mother would have seen Potter as indispensible to you."

"What?" Zoe didn't know what he meant by that.

"I believe she would have viewed Potter—_James_—as a necessary component to a diverse and well-rounded circle of friends."

Then he sighed heavily in surrender and left the room.

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><p><strong><em>Let me know what you thought! And have a wonderful day!<em>**


	31. Steps Forward and Remembering Beginnings

_**Gasp! I got one finished quicker than I thought I would! You lucky readers, you. This one has a lot of good information, but it's still also kind of a transition. Nonetheless, I think you're going to like it. :)**_

_**NOTE: If you haven't read my story **_**Introductions**_**, particularly chapter 2, "A Tendency to Chivalry", a part of this chapter may be a bit confusing. So, you may want to pop over and read that one if you haven't already or refresh your memory a bit before delving into this one. **_

_**NOTE 2.0: Toward the end of this chapter there's also a bit of...ahem...grown-up stuff. Nothing graphic, I promise, but the writing definitely veers toward, uh, let's just say easily-made assumptions. If this is something that bothers you... well, sorry. It's human and natural. Don't read it if you take offense to such things. But, again,it is NOT graphic by any stretch of the imagination and my current fic rating is more than sufficient. Okay, maybe by a little stretch of the imagination... *giggles***_

_**NOTE 2.1: Last one, I promise. Also to note, part of this chapter jumps around a bit. But, just think of it kind of like **_**The Princess Bride**_** and it shouldn't be confusing.**_

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><p><strong>Steps Forward and Remembering Beginnings<strong>

"Can I come see you here sometimes?" Zoe asked her father out of the blue the evening before she was to return to class.

Though she'd have potions to take every day for a while, it had been decided just that afternoon that Zoe was well enough to rejoin her classmates in Slytherin House and resume her school schedule. She also had strict orders to meet with Madam Pomfrey once a day for a treatment with the nebulizing bubble until further notice owing to her still weak lung capacity.

She was currently wrapped up in a fuzzy, warm blanket on the sofa of her father's quarters. He'd finally allowed her to leave the bed and venture into the rest of the space just two days previous, though it had taken an inordinate amount of whinging on Zoe's part. She'd ultimately had to play dirty and enlist Minerva's help to make headway with him.

"Papa?" Zoe said, sitting onto her knees to look up over the back of the sofa to her father who was behind his desk on the far side of the main room of his quarters. He looked up at her through his glasses.

"Hmm?"

Zoe wondered what had him so distracted today. He'd been far away all day—at least he had been after receiving that owl around mid-morning. He'd even forgotten to order them lunch; Zoe had had to remind him.

"I asked if I could come visit you here sometimes?" Zoe said, resting her chin on the back of the sofa. "Like, if I had a question or something and you aren't in your office or the Defense classroom. Or…you know, if I just wanted to see you."

Her father arched an eyebrow in the way that he did when he was considering something. After a moment, he took a breath and inclined his head.

"I suppose I don't see why not. But no after-curfew wandering," he said, pointing his quill at her.

Zoe quickly shook her head to let him know she wouldn't dream of coming after curfew. He inclined his head.

"I will show you in the morning how to access my office and the doorway to these rooms."

Zoe smiled at him, pleased with his answer. When she turned toward the fire to go back to her reading for Transfiguration, she gasped.

Before her very eyes, a glossy black door with a crest ornately carved into its wood materialized into the stone wall just to the right of the fireplace. Her eyes widened in disbelief, she quickly sat up to look over the back of the sofa toward her father once more. He was looking down to something on his desk and hadn't seemed to notice the formation of the door or her sound of surprise.

"Papa," she said, gaining his attention.

He looked up to her again, but his eyes instantly moved to the door. He sighed heavily and looked a bit annoyed as he pulled off his glasses and stood. Walking across the main room, he took up his outer robes from where they had been draped on top of a pile of books on the dining table and threw them around his shoulders. Then he stalked to the newly-formed doorway.

"I'll be back in a moment," he said before swinging it open and going through it.

Zoe was thoroughly confused and curious. She stood from the sofa, dropping her blanket onto the floor as she moved to examine the door through which her father had just exited. Upon close inspection, she realized that the carved crest was, in fact, the Slytherin House crest sunk only about half an inch into the dark wood. From the carvings, she also saw an eerie green light that pulsated from dim to brighter every second or so.

She had just reached out to touch the ornamental silver handle when the door swung open and her father walked through it once more. He startled to see her standing so close, but quickly composed himself as he closed the door and grumbled the words _consummatum est_ under his breath. The black door faded instantly into the wall.

"What was that?" Zoe asked as her father put a hand on her shoulder to guide her back toward the sofa. Zoe sat down once there as her father picked up the blanket from the floor.

"It was a door," he said simply, draping the blanket around her shoulders.

Zoe gave him an annoyed look. "I know it was a door. But it appeared out of nowhere. Where does it go?"

Her father sighed, shrugged out of his outer robes once more, draping them over the back of the sofa, and settled onto the cushion beside her. "It leads directly into the corridor across from the door to the Slytherin common room. Only when a prefect from within the dormitory specifically calls for the Head of House, will this door appear. And before you ask, I will not divulge to you the method they use to call."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "But… that's four floors down!" she stated in disbelief, more confused by the 'how' than the 'why' or 'when'.

"Yes," her father said.

"Do you have to go down a lot of stairs?"

"No, it's a short passageway."

Zoe was flabbergasted. "How?"

Her father gave her a smirk. "No matter where they reside, Heads of Houses always need to have direct access to the houses they oversee in the event of an emergency. I have found over the years that this castle accommodates those that live within its walls as best it can—often far exceeding expectations."

"But…_how_?" Zoe asked again.

"Magic, of course."

Zoe merely nodded at that. She wished she could understand the physics of it, but that answer would have to be sufficient for her, she supposed, if it was good enough for her father.

"Dumbledore once said that he could live here a thousand years and never learn all the secrets and unknown magic within the walls of Hogwarts," he said offhand then, gazing into the fire.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Zoe asked quietly, making sure he was talking about whom she thought he was talking about.

Her father nodded once and they were quiet for a bit then.

"So…what was the emergency in the common room?" she asked then.

Her father rolled his eyes. "There wasn't an emergency. It was merely a dispute between two fifth years that escalated to wands being drawn."

"It didn't take long for you to come back," Zoe observed.

"No, tensions tend to diffuse as soon as I enter the room."

"That's because everyone knows you can give out a hundred detentions in a minute flat."

Her father gave her a stern glare, but she could see a slight upturn of his lips.

Sitting sideways, Zoe leaned her shoulder and head against the back of the sofa and stretched her legs out, resting her feet on her father's nearest knee.

"Papa, who's Yaxley?" she inquired suddenly, the question she'd been thinking about for a few days now coming to the forefront of her mind. Now was as good a time as any to ask seeing as how she seemed to have her father's attention.

He turned his eyes on her, his eyebrows knitted together. His gaze was intense and serious, but Zoe didn't think he was angry. "He's a…Dea—a criminal. Wanted for murder at the moment. Why do you ask?"

Zoe shrugged. "John and Lottie and everyone were telling me that he killed an Auror and is missing now. Is that true?"

Her father eyed her for a moment before he spoke. "Yes, it is."

"The name sounded familiar—Yaxley. Have I met someone with that name before?"

Her father paused, but then subtly shook his head. "He has been in the _Prophet_ frequently in recent weeks. You probably heard it through the gossip mill."

Zoe nodded. "Maybe. But I think I've heard it before... not at Hogwarts."

Her father shook his head more emphatically then. "I do not want you to focus your thoughts on him or any other criminal despite what you may hear around school," her father said succinctly then. Now he seemed a bit agitated and his tone most certainly brooked no argument on the matter.

Zoe didn't speak. She was wary of furthering the conversation if it was only going to anger him, which it seemed likely to. It was no matter, however, for her father quickly changed the subject.

"Let's talk about your wand."

Zoe's shoulders slumped and she fidgeted. Her father stilled her with a hand placed on her ankle.

"This is something you do not know," he began slowly. Zoe looked up from where she had been picking at a loose string on the blanket. "When that wand chose you, Mr. Ollivander cautioned me that it may tend toward…troublesome."

"Troublesome?" Zoe asked. She didn't exactly have the greatest reverence for her wand at the moment—not after the Memorial Grove incident—but she still rather took offence to anyone criticizing it.

"Yes. It has to do with the duel cores. Ollivander believes that wands made with duel cores—especially those from griffins—are temperamental and take a bit more…finesse, you could say, in wielding them."

"But I don't have any finesse," Zoe said instantly.

Her father shook his head. "Perhaps that isn't the right word to use here…" He looked away for only a moment, thinking, before turning his eyes on her once more. "Griffin wands require more discipline and control by those who wield them. They require a certain level of consistent, conscious thought to work effectively, otherwise the witch or wizard risks their wand doing something that they did not necessarily intend for it to do."

He gave her a pointed look and Zoe perked up.

"So, you believe me now?" She asked. "You think that my wand really did hex Cecilia on its own?"

"No," her father stated and Zoe looked away, feeling just as in trouble now as she did that Sunday her father had doled out her punishment.

"However," he began again. "I _have_ reconsidered your detentions and you will not be serving them."

That was a relief to hear, she supposed, but Zoe didn't understand how he'd come to that decision when he felt that she had still been at fault for hexing Cecilia.

"I believe that you did have an inclination to hex Miss Aaron that day. I believe that the feeling was exceptionally strong and fully formed in your mind, though it was, perhaps, only a fleeting sentiment. I also think that, although your brain kicked in to tell you that such an action was not wise, your unconscious mind had already affected your magic and your wand, thus causing the implementation of the hex. It was all the result of undisciplined magic—an undisciplined mind."

Zoe fidgeted some more and looked into her lap. She hated the feeling she got when her father gave her such frank criticism. She felt small tears sting the bottom of her eyes as her father reached out and raised her chin to look at him.

"I do not say this to be harsh or to make you feel discouraged or shameful. I do not believe that your wand acted of its own volition; it cannot do that. But I also do not believe that you consciously intended to fire off the hex you did. I did not consider the temperament of your wand and I jumped to conclusions and overreacted when initially I addressed it with you. I am sorry."

Zoe stared into her father's eyes for several moments. Finally, she nodded, accepting his apology. He inclined his head, knowing he'd been forgiven.

"Having said all that, do you still fear your wand?"

Zoe could feel her face flushing in embarrassment. She didn't know how he knew, but he'd riddled out her feelings about her wand somehow. Looking toward the fire, she very quietly spoke: "Kind of."

"That fear will only lead to an increased lack of control, Zoe," he stated honestly.

"How do I not be afraid of my wand if it will hex people unconsciously?" she asked, a bit frustrated. "You said at home that you would never punish me for something I only think about doing but don't actually do. But I'm afraid my wand will do it if I just think about it. Then, I'm not just thinking about it, I'm doing it, even if I don't _really_ want to."

Her father sighed. "Let me rephrase: it is not about being afraid itself, it is about not letting that fear control your thoughts, your emotions, or your actions—which is what you allowed it to do in regards to Miss Aaron."

"I'm not afraid of Cecilia," Zoe said defensively.

"I am not saying you are. Not physically, anyway. But what she said clearly made you fearful of something—which led to your anger and your unconscious want for retribution."

Zoe looked at him critically. She thought she was beginning to understand what he was saying. She looked down to her hands again.

"She called you a coward," Zoe said softly. "I guess I _was_ a little afraid that people would believe her."

Her father merely stared at her. After several moments, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face.

"We've talked about this," he said. "You mustn't let such things get under your skin."

"But it isn't true!" Zoe proclaimed. "She had no right to say it!"

"She had every right, if that's her feeling, just as you and I have every right to disagree."

Zoe clenched her jaw. Why wasn't her father defending himself? Cecilia was stupid and said stupid things and she shouldn't just be allowed to get away with the lies she told about other people.

"That," her father said then. When Zoe looked at him, he was pointing his finger at her. "That, right there, is exactly what caused your wand to react."

"My face?" Zoe said cheekily. Her father narrowed his eyes at her.

"No. That building frustration, that sense that you've been wronged. It's misguided defensiveness."

Zoe huffed, but didn't say anything to that.

"It would seem," her father continued fluidly, "that Occlumency has become not just an elective skill for you to learn, but an essential one."

"Occlumency will help me control my wand?"

Her father shook his head. "You already know how to control your wand. Occlumency will help you to control your thoughts and emotions so that they do not control you."

Zoe nodded, still not sure she completely understood, but trusting her father.

He gave a single nod.

"Take out your wand. We need to test your magical core before you begin classes again tomorrow."

Zoe pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown. She had found it stowed safely under the pillow of her father's bed during her illness; presumably, he'd put it there. She'd left it there until her father had allowed her out of bed finally.

"Levitation," her father commanded.

Zoe pointed her wand toward a few throw pillows she'd stacked on the floor at her feet.

"_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_," she said clearly. The pillows lifted off the floor and up to eye height. She allowed them to hover for a moment, before lifting her wand straight up and looking back to her father, waiting for the next spell he wanted her to test. The pillows fell to the floor again.

"Color-change Charm."

Zoe, suddenly compelled to mischievousness, pointed her wand at her father, who raised his eyebrow at her as she cast the spell on his hair. She giggled at his suddenly fuchsia locks. He took it upon himself to return his hair back to its natural color.

"Cast it on something inanimate, please," he said, mock annoyance in his voice. "Cheeky urchin."

Zoe grinned as she pointed her wand at sporadic, individual stones in the fireplace, incanting the spell over and over again, turning them various colors.

"All right, all right, no need to show off," her father said as she turned one violet. "Your magical core seems to have recovered intact along with your overall health. But let's test a transfiguration just to be certain."

He waved his wand and a moment later, a quill zoomed into his hand. He held it flat in his palm toward Zoe.

"Transform the quill into a feather duster."

Zoe bit her lip. "We only just learned that one before Christmas," she said, feeling a bit unconfident.

Her father raised a single eyebrow. "And by my understanding, you managed the transformation on your first attempt. Lupin would hardly shut up about it."

"_Professor_ Lupin," Zoe corrected. Her father narrowed his eyes at her.

"Quill to feather duster," he commanded again.

Speaking the spell, Zoe did just that.

"And back to its original form," her father requested. Zoe complied easily.

Her father, banishing the quill back to his desk, gave a satisfied nod.

"That's sufficient, but you're still behind on the practical application of the spells you've missed in the last two weeks. You'll let me know if you find yourself struggling to catch up."

"Yes, sir," Zoe confirmed.

"Do you feel up to an Occlumency lesson now?" he asked then. "I think it best that we start making these a regular occurrence."

Zoe shrugged at him.

"Sorry, I seemed to have missed your reply." There was definitely an edge to his tone now; he hated it when she answered him with a shrug.

"Yeah, I guess I'm up for it," she said. She was eager to get the hang of Occlumency, but as bedtime neared, she was getting rather tired.

"All right, close your eyes and clear your mind. I'll give you a few minutes."

Zoe watched her father close his own eyes for meditation and she did the same, doing her best to breathe normally, though the lingering effects of the pneumonia made it slightly difficult. She did manage to relax plenty after several minutes, however. When her father spoke again, she opened her eyes.

"I will enter your mind not to be intrusive, but to allow you to test your mental defenses. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Zoe said, knowing he always wanted to make that clear before entering her mind.

"Are you ready, then?"

Zoe took as deep a breath as she was able and nodded.

"_Legilimens_."

Instantly, she felt as if she was no longer alone within her mind but her father always slipped in so seamlessly that she never quite knew where he was. It was like the feeling one would get when they were being watched, but didn't know from what direction. Therefore, Zoe always felt as if the first few minutes of Occlumency lessons were occupied by a game of hide-and-seek.

"You haven't been clearing your mind before sleep," her father stated as a matter of fact. His voice sounded distant as she concentrated on only the contents of her own mind.

"I've been ill!" Zoe said indignantly nonetheless—at the expense of her concentration.

Her father didn't respond to her excuse, but she could feel him pushing onto the canary yellow wall she used as a visual representation of the initial barrier to her thoughts. At first, it felt merely as if he was leaning against the wall, perhaps perusing the photographs there (also visual representations) of her most recent, innocuous memories—laying in her father's canopy bed, listening to him read to her, writing an essay for Charms, the look of the snowy Hogwarts grounds from the bedroom window of her father's quarters, Madam Pomfrey bustling around making sure Zoe was taking her potions and resting sufficiently.

Soon, however, it felt as if her father was putting more pressure against the wall, as if he'd multiplied himself and, thus, the weight that rested against it. It started out as a subtle increase, but seemed heavier exponentially with each passing moment until, finally, he broke through. When that happened, Zoe felt him withdraw from her mind.

"Not bad," he said.

Zoe was panting from her exertion and, as she nodded at her father's comment, her eyes settled on the clock on the mantle.

"It's only been four minutes," she observed, exasperated. She felt her father had been testing her mind much longer than that.

"Proof that you have some catching up to do in this subject as well."

Zoe wrinkled her nose at his criticism, though she couldn't deny the statement.

Nearly an hour later, Zoe was not only physically exhausted, but mentally. Her father had certainly put her through the paces but, in the end, she hadn't felt as though she'd done too horribly. He'd even praised her, saying he was pleased that, despite her illness and lack of practice in the last few weeks, she'd managed to discourage his presence in her mind more than once—though she was still far from being able to force him out.

Zoe yawned broadly as she settled under her blanket. She would sleep on the sofa in the main room that night, allowing her father to return to his own bed for the first time in over a fortnight.

The fire was growing dim as her father walked about the room, putting out the flames in the oil lamps one-by-one. Zoe knew he could do it with magic in a blink, but he seemed to prefer doing it the Muggle way.

"Papa…" Zoe started tentatively as her father used magic to bring down the flames in the fireplace even more so that she'd be able to sleep easier. "May I ask you some more questions about Mum?"

"I thought I had made it clear that you are free to ask as many questions as you like, whenever you like," he said, turning to look her way. He was silhouetted against the low light of the fire.

"I know," Zoe said awkwardly. "But I'll be starting classes and we won't see each other as much and, well, I just wanted to make sure that I still could."

She could see her father give a succinct nod. "Obviously, there's always inappropriate times and places for such questions, but if and when you think of any, I will do my best to answer them."

Zoe gave him a small smile, pleased that his promise still held. "Okay. Well, you keep saying that… that you'll do your best to answer my questions but does that mean you don't know everything about her?"

"Nobody can really know _everything_ about another person, Zoe," he said as he crossed to one of the flanking chairs.

"What I mean is, you said you weren't sure if Mum had thought of a name for me before I was born…"

She hoped that in trailing off, her father would understand where she was going with that question. She'd always had the impression that her father and her mother had not been on speaking terms by the time she was born; she wanted to know if that was true. Luckily, she didn't have to try to elaborate. She could tell in the heavy sigh that he gave as he took a seat in the closest armchair that he knew what she was really asking.

"Your mother and I were not married, obviously," he said. Zoe nodded. She'd always known that and, really, that didn't bother her so much. Glendora's parents weren't married either, though they'd been together longer than Glendora had been alive. Glendora said that her parents thought that the "institution of marriage" was corrupt and complicated otherwise perfectly simple relationships.

"But what I'm not sure you're aware of is that we were not associating with each other at the time of your birth, though you may have deduced that despite my having never actually stated it."

So, she'd been right.

"Why weren't you with Mum while she was pregnant?" Zoe asked, hoping he wouldn't shy away from explaining the circumstances of all that.

Her father seemed uncomfortable then, but he looked her in the eye when next he spoke.

"I was not, in fact, aware that she was with child. Our relationship had been rather brief and when it ended… I don't imagine either of us was inclined to socialize with each other. Therefore, I did not learn of your conception until nearly four months after you were born—the day I first brought you to Spinner's End."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "But why wouldn't Mum tell you?"

Her father shook his head. "Do not think ill of her. I do not know that she didn't try—I find it difficult to believe that she wouldn't, actually. But after we parted ways, I fully reentered the wizarding world. As a Muggle, it would have been very difficult for her to track me down."

Zoe nodded her understanding. It seemed to have been just some really rotten timing on both their parts. She couldn't really fault them. At least by her father's description, there didn't seem to be any malice in either of their actions to believe that her existence would cause either of them to have ill feelings toward the other.

But then something niggled at her mind. She looked up at her father.

"Hang on," she said. "You _reentered_ the wizarding world? Does that mean you had left it?"

Something in her father's eyes told her that he was not thrilled that she had asked that particular question. However, he sighed heavily and explained.

"I had left it, yes. After the war, there were certain elements of my life in our world that I could not face. So, I took several years away from it all, living as a Muggle."

"_You_ lived as a Muggle?" Zoe couldn't believe it.

"Don't look so shocked," her father said. "I did grow up in a Muggle community, just as you have. My father was a Muggle. It was not a hard stretch. And I still used magic within the confines of Spinner's End, just as I do now."

Zoe nodded as an enormous yawn overtook her. Through it, she managed a strangled, deep-voiced, "okay".

"That was highly sophisticated," he said sardonically, causing Zoe to let out an amused puff of air. He rose from the chair and closed the two or three steps between them. He rested his hand on her forehead.

"I haven't had a fever in days," Zoe observed, looking up at him.

Her father smirked. "Nothing wrong with being thorough," he responded.

Zoe rolled her eyes at him. "Will you tell me a story about her before I go to sleep?" she asked then. She tried to look as innocent and expectant as possible, hoping her father would cave. After all, it was very close to bedtime and he may deem it one of those "inappropriate times".

As he resumed his seat, his facial expression was pensive.

"You know a bit about how we met," he said. "Would you like to hear the story of how we started our relationship?"

Zoe's face alit with excitement. "Very much!"

Her father gave a single nod of his head and began.

* * *

><p>Looking into his eager daughter's eyes, Severus allowed his mind to wander unhindered to Elizabeth Agnew then as it had so many years ago, just after he'd first met her. Their first encounter had been brief and…awkward…but somehow unforgettable. He began to tell the tale…<p>

* * *

><p><em>In the days that had followed their walk to her flat (and the parting kiss she'd given him), he'd found his thoughts lingering on her quite often. And, really, it was no wonder. In those days, he hadn't done much by way of gainful work and therefore didn't have much to occupy his time or thoughts.<em>

_Following his exit from the wizarding world he'd lived off the salary he'd made as a professor; Hogwarts had provided him with the essentials of life for the better part of sixteen years, after all, so nearly all his pay had been saved in his Gringotts vault. Had he expired during the war, the funds would have been funneled into the Hogwarts scholarship fund for students whose parents had difficulties paying for tuition or books._

* * *

><p>"That's…<em>morbid<em>," Zoe interrupted him then, squirming a bit.

Severus inclined his head. "It is, perhaps, but in war many people make such arrangements so that their assets and debts are taken care of in the event of their death. Do you understand why such a thing would be necessary?"

Zoe nodded slowly. "I suppose… I'm just glad you didn't die in the war."

Severus found himself smirking at her with affection. "As am I," he said quietly. Zoe gave him a smile as he continued.

* * *

><p><em>But he <em>had_ lived and, therefore, the funds had made for a comfortable pension of sorts in the five years he had been relatively idle, though he had written a few paid articles for potions journals and done copious amounts of reading and research. It hadn't all been sitting about._

_However, he had had much free time and he'd often found himself drawn to London—museums and bookshops, mainly—which is how he'd come to, quite literally, run into Elizabeth that cold, overcast day in late November, fifteen weeks nearly to the day since the two had first met._

_He'd just exited Waterstones in Kensington High Street. He recalled having been in a surprisingly pleasant mood that day, having spent the afternoon perusing a vast array of Muggle fiction—a pleasant change from the academic tomes he tended to favor. As he stepped onto the High Street, buttoning the inconspicuous, long,_ _black,_ _woolen trench coat he wore when venturing into the Muggle world, something—a smell, perhaps—had alit his memories of Elizabeth almost instantly._

_The question was: why? No matter what he tried as he walked unconsciously up the road, he found that the woman and that ridiculous kiss on her front stoop demanded all the attention within his mind. He hadn't had experience with a woman having such a consuming occupation of his thoughts since…_

* * *

><p>"Since what?" Zoe asked as he'd trailed off.<p>

Severus shook his head. That was the past. "Since silly, childhood fancies," he'd placated her.

He watched as his daughter wrinkled her nose. "I think boys are gross," she stated. "I can't imagine fancying any boys at Hogwarts," she continued with an air of haughtiness.

Severus smirked again, glad to hear his eleven-year-old daughter had yet to acquire an interest in boys. That would put his mind at ease regarding that particular topic for at least the next year, he estimated.

Thinking back on her now… Elizabeth had been quite attractive to him—he had conceded that much then and now—but he recalled thinking that there must surely have been something wrong with her. He was reminded that, at the time, he'd thought it odd that a woman of her intellect and beauty would have been unmarried or, at the very least, attached, even by contemporary Muggle standards.

Of course, her being a Muggle had been another issue all together. Not that Severus was prejudiced. No, he had experienced the pain that intolerance brought and had spent most of his adult life aiming to move past his upbringing and adolescent influences—to reprogram his thoughts and actions toward others. Despite this, he had never really seen himself being attracted to anyone but a witch. If he had really thought about it, though, he had never seen himself in a relationship with anyone but Lily Evans.

_Stop it, you sentimental old fool!_

The past was gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

However, his lingering thoughts of Elizabeth Agnew all those years ago were still troubling and annoying—even to think on them now—considering he had hardly looking for companionship. And, after all, she had been a complete stranger to him. He hadn't seen her in weeks before their second encounter and really had known nothing more about her aside from her name. He couldn't believe he'd actually been fantasizing about her and been worried because she was a Muggle. He doubted, at the time, that he would ever even see her again.

_You're being completely ridiculous,_ he remembered internally scolding himself.

Yet, every time he'd try to steer his thoughts to a product in a shop window or take in the last vestiges of autumn color, his mind had wandered to that damned intoxicated woman—her stumbling into his arms, her smiling at him from a crack in the door, her kissing him…

"Papa, you stopped the story."

Severus looked into his daughter's eyes. He had become engrossed in his own thoughts and, though those thoughts had zoomed through his mind in only a few moments, it had been enough to prompt his daughter's lack of patience.

"Where was I?"

"You said you had been thinking about Mum when you left the bookshop."

"Ah."

* * *

><p><em>Grumbling in self-frustration, he'd quickened his pace, hoping that the exercise of the walk would expel what errant thoughts he had and allow him to focus once more on his life and the work he hoped to accomplish in the coming weeks.<em>

_Nevertheless, as he traipsed around paying absolutely no attention to where he was going, his mind wandered further and further from memory and began to become geared in practicality. After all, if he was honest with himself, it wasn't as if he wouldn't like some sort of contact outside of the mostly-elderly inhabitants of his neighborhood, acquaintances on the street, and the somewhat meddlesome Minerva McGonagall._

* * *

><p>"I'm going to tell Min you said that about her."<p>

"Not if you wish for me to finish this story."

"Oh, all right. I won't."

* * *

><p><em>Perhaps Elizabeth Agnew would be the perfect refuge from the rather mundane, routine existence he had taken up in the past few years. Of course, his pragmatic mind kept focusing on the reality that he knew absolutely nothing of this woman nor did he truly believe he'd ever see her again; London was a large city after all. Unless, of course, he were to go to her flat to see her and that was certainly not going to happen.<em>

_Severus had solitarily marched on up the High Street, internally scolding himself every time his thoughts began to wander to anything but autumn weather or potions ingredients. Shaking his head to clear the most recent mental fantasy images from his mind, he looked up to see a nearby park. The wind had started to pick up causing him to wrap his long overcoat closer around his body. The park would have plenty of safe, secluded areas from which to disapparate home and once there, Severus could relax, forgetting everything in a few shots of Ogden's Finest._

* * *

><p>"Firewhisky, Papa?" Zoe asked with disapproval, cutting him off and giving him a stern look.<p>

"Forgive me, I misspoke. I had every intention of disapparating home to relax with a glass of pumpkin juice and a heaping plate of custard creams," he teased wryly.

Zoe merely grinned at him.

* * *

><p><em>He exited the pavement through the gate and quickened his pace along the gravel path. Pulling out his wand, he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Just ahead there was a secluded grove of trees—the perfect site to conceal a disappearing man. Taking one last look over his shoulder, he turned back and, without enough time to dodge out of the way, he ran straight into a woman. She had apparently approached him at some speed because, combined with his hastened pace, she fell back onto her bum as Severus nearly had the wind knocked out of him. <em>

"_I apologize, miss. I…"_

"_No, no. Don't be silly, I wasn't paying the least bit of attention. I— Severus Snape, is that you?"_

_Severus, trying to compose himself, hadn't even looked at the person he had nearly mauled._

* * *

><p>"It was fate."<p>

"I beg your pardon?"

"It was fate," Zoe said again. "The way you were thinking about Mum and then you actually bumped into her."

"Hmm…" Severus responded.

He didn't know what had allowed him quite literally to run into Elizabeth Agnew on that cold, windy day but he would never admit to believing in such nonsense as fate. The truth was, Severus was completely perplexed as to how moments before, he hadn't been able to get this very woman out of his head and then, at the moment he was about to leave the city in which she resided, he encountered her.

* * *

><p>"<em>Well, are you going to help me up or not? I would say it's the least you could do after knocking me on my arse."<em>

* * *

><p>Zoe giggled at her mother's cursing, but that was the extent of her interruption.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Severus blinked, remembering himself. "Yes, we do seem to bump into each other." <em>

_He leaned down and offered his hand, which Elizabeth enthusiastically took, hopping up onto her trainered feet. _

"_Ha! You're funny," she said._

_Severus noticed she was wearing a plain, blue hoodie and a close-fitting pair of black yoga bottoms. _(He conveniently left out of his story how the yoga bottoms had pleasingly accentuated Elizabeth's toned legs and backside, however.)_ He couldn't see how she wasn't freezing. Her dark brown hair was tied into a high ponytail and sweat gleaned on her forehead. She was also holding onto some sort of mobile electronic device with strings hanging from it that she had detached from her ears. He had seen such gadgets before in various shops he passed along the pavement—usually the ones emitting vulgar music at entirely too loud a volume._

"_Are you going to ask me if I'm alright?" Elizabeth asked with a tone of playfulness to her voice._

_Severus frowned. He didn't like being treated as if he had no manners in the world._

"_Are you alright?" he deigned derisively._

_Elizabeth smiled. "Yes. I'm great. And how are you, Severus?"_

"_I am astounded that you remember my name," he commented dryly._

"_I told you I would. It's not every day you meet a man with a name like Severus Snape. Makes me rather curious about your middle name…"_

_Severus once again frowned. "I don't have one."_

* * *

><p>"But you do—" Zoe began to protest. Severus held a hand up to halt her. If she kept interrupting, he'd never get through the story.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Really?" Elizabeth had eyed him skeptically and Severus held her gaze, but only for a moment. It <em>was_ a lie, after all, and he felt that this woman could read that in his mind, though she could hardly know anything of Legilimency._

"_Ha!" she chortled, "I'm going to guess it! Come with me." The woman shuddered in the wind and took his hand, apparently attempting to drag him out of the park. Severus broke from her grasp and stopped their forward movement._

"_I really must be getting home," he said._

_Elizabeth looked back at him, somewhat downcast. "Why? Is there someone waiting for you?"_

"_No. I live alone, but I have work to—"_

"_Work?" Elizabeth looked confused but quickly shook the expression off. "Oh, come on, Severus. I want to thank you properly for assisting me that night. It really is the least I can do."_

_Severus eyed Elizabeth suspiciously. "What do you intend to do?"_

_Elizabeth wrinkled her brow. "Cook for you, of course," she stated as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Come on." She once again grabbed his hand, leading him from the park and down the pavement._

_Only once they had left the park did Severus realize it was the very same park he had Apparated from the night he'd escorted this same woman home. It was less than three blocks from her flat. Severus cursed inwardly to himself; he'd unconsciously wandered into her neighborhood. How could he have been so distracted?_

"_Really, I must protest, Miss Agnew," Severus pleaded as the pair climbed the familiar stairs leading to Elizabeth's flat. Elizabeth stopped two steps above him and turned, looking down on him._

"_Miss Agnew? You sound like one of my old professors."_

_Severus scowled and, like before, this woman seemed to pick up on his thoughts._

"_That's what you do, isn't it?" she asked, walking back down to be level with him. "You're a professor."_

"_I used to teach," Severus mumbled, "How did you manage to come to that conclusion?" _

_Elizabeth shrugged. "There's just something about you, I suppose. Maybe it's because you have such impeccable posture," she said playfully._

_Severus glared at her._

"_See," said Elizabeth, pointing at his face. "I bet that face put a fair few troublemakers in their place during your tenure. You're almost intimidating me."_

"_Almost?"_

_Elizabeth smiled and turned the key in the lock._

"_Really, I don't want to impose on you."_

_Elizabeth waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. Like I said, it's the least I can do."_

_With that, she opened the door and lead Severus up a small flight of stairs. On the first landing, there were two doors facing opposite each other. Elizabeth directed him to the one on the left and they entered into a small, contemporarily designed flat._

"_I'm just going to pop upstairs for a shower. Five minutes, I promise. Make yourself at home." _

_Then she was gone and Severus was by himself in the tiny foyer staring at a framed film poster and wondering how he'd gotten himself into this situation. When he'd arose that morning, he hadn't given such a scenario even a modicum of thought. Now here he was, standing in the lounge of a woman he hardly knew, browsing the photographs on the wall._

_From what he was seeing, Elizabeth kept her flat tidy, though she didn't appear to be a ridiculously clean individual, as was evident by the magazines sprawled across one of the small tables next to the couch and several different coats and cardigans stacked over one another on a chair just inside the door. _

_Strolling into the sitting room, Severus noticed that one entire wall was covered with bookshelves—with the exception of the television, which hung in an alcove in the middle—and every shelf was filled with books. Medical references and biographies seemed to occupy many of the shelves, but the majority of them were stuffed with travel diaries, atlases, and nonfiction informational tomes for various countries of the world. There were even four whole shelves dedicated to what looked to be fiction, strictly of the fantasy and science fiction genre. Severus had never met anyone with a home book collection that rivaled his own besides Dumbledore and he was enjoying perusing what titles piqued the interest of this particular woman._

_As he slowly navigated the room, Severus noticed that Elizabeth didn't appear to have many photographs with friends. There were the general milestones of her youth—the toddler years, graduations, holidays—where Elizabeth was the focus, but most of the copious frames dispersed throughout the room contained her with what appeared to be her parents. They seemed to be on holiday in Africa for most of them. The wilderness one might see on safari was evident and there was even a photograph of an adolescent Elizabeth sitting atop the back of a baby elephant, a look of fear and exhilaration gleaming in her crystal blue eyes._

"_My parents were with Doctors Without Borders. Dad was a GP and Mum a pediatrician. We moved around a lot, but I practically grew up in Africa. They inspired me to be a doctor as well."_

_Severus hadn't even heard Elizabeth come downstairs and approach him, looking over his shoulder at the photograph he held. Her dark, wavy brown hair was wet from her shower making it appear practically black and the ends were curling as she patted it dry with a towel. She was now dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a casual, teal-colored jumper. She strolled across the room toward a narrow corridor and indicated that he should follow her._

_They entered into a minute kitchen decorated like a French café with pictures of the Eiffel Tower on the red walls. Copper pots and pans hung from long metal hooks above the tiny island stove. Elizabeth maneuvered her way around, taking out ingredients. She filled a pot with water as Severus sat in one of the chairs at the two-seater table next to a large window that looked out onto a garden that seemed to be shared among the tenants of the flats above._

"_Do you like pasta?" Elizabeth asked holding up a bag of pre-packaged spaghetti._

_Severus turned his gaze from the window and nodded once, receiving a brilliant smile from Elizabeth. He watched as she lightly padded around the tile floor in her bare feet, preparing him a cup of tea. She had a subtle grace to her that he imagined didn't come easy to most women._

_As the minutes ticked by and she cooked for him, he couldn't help but observe the way her pale, delicate hands stirred the tomato sauce with all the precision of a Potions Master. It had been years since he'd been so enamored by a woman, yet here he was in her kitchen unable to focus on anything else. It was true that this woman intrigued him and he was anxious to see if her physical qualities accentuated or hindered her intelligence._

"_Do you make a habit of cooking for strange men you hardly know?" he asked nonchalantly._

_Elizabeth continued to stir the sauce, apparently contemplating his question indicated by the way she wrinkled her brow and fixedly stared into the pot on the stove. It took a rather long time—in Severus's opinion—before she finally turned the heat down under the Bolognese, leaving it to simmer on its own, and crossed to sit opposite him. She rested her chin on her fists and looked intently into his eyes and with a wan smile, she responded._

"_No. You're just special."_

_Severus raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh? How's that?"_

"_Severus, in my experience, when most men see a woman stumbling out of a pub by herself they see one of two things: they see a lush who would deserve anything that comes her way and therefore turn a blind eye _or_ they see an opportunity to take advantage. I won't lie. When you first approached me, I thought you would take advantage, but you didn't. You verbally sparred with me as if you were an annoyed friend then you safely escorted me to my door. Then, I never saw you again—until today, of course. You didn't turn out to be a wank or a stalker. You were just a chivalrous man who felt the need to help a ridiculously juvenile woman to her home. Those types of men don't come around every day. I feel I can trust you."_

_Elizabeth smiled at him, but he couldn't bring himself to really say anything to that, so he simply nodded. What she said about men may have been true, but Severus got the impression that this woman had probably been hurt before, perhaps by an old beau or by several men throughout her life. It wasn't an altogether uncommon thing._

_It became abundantly clear to Severus in that instance that in Elizabeth Agnew's case, her beauty was definitely a detriment to her character and integrity as a woman. She was intelligent, kind, and trusting, but these were qualities most wouldn't see at a glance—and many would take advantage of when they did._

_Severus couldn't keep his eyes off her as she stood back up to finish preparing their meal._

_As the night progressed, Severus and Elizabeth ate and drank wine and just talked. Elizabeth conversed about her work as a surgeon specializing in pediatric surgeries. She pestered Severus with unending questions about his life, though he didn't dare say much at all for fear of breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Therefore, he tended toward vagueness in all his answers._

"_Is it Sebastian?"_

"_Is what Sebastian?"_

"_Your middle name, silly."_

_Severus blinked. It was back to this again. "No."_

"_Claude?"_

_Severus shook his head._

"_Francisco."_

_He rolled his eyes._

"_James?"_

_Severus snorted contemptuously._

_Elizabeth scrunched up her nose. "It's not something horrid like Mortimer or Cornelius, is it? Those would be absolutely ghastly."_

_Severus smirked at her attempts and thought the former Minister for Magic might not find this conversation nearly as amusing. _

"_Did it ever occur to you that perhaps my middle name was something perfectly normal?"_

_Elizabeth eyed Severus skeptically. _

"_It had, I suppose, but no offense, if I were to give my child a name like Severus, I imagine I would be just as imaginative when it came to his second name." _

_She leaned forward then—worrying her lower lip with her teeth—and squinted her eyes at him as if trying to read his mind._

"_Nope. I really can't see you being called something as plain as Severus Michael Snape," she said. "It just doesn't fit. Oh! I bet it's something regal like, Perseus or Caesar or Aristotle." She looked at him expectantly. He took another sip from his wine glass and simply shook his head._

"_Well, you certainly have the legends covered. How about we concede the fact that I am not going to tell you?" Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to continue but Severus cut her off. "And, if I allow you to continue guessing, we may very well be here for several days."_

_Elizabeth smiled at him as she had a dozen times that night. Severus really couldn't see how this woman could radiate such feminine maturity and still get so much pleasure from such a childish conversation. It confused him and interested him at the same time; he had never met a woman like her._

"_It's getting quite late," he said, averting his black eyes away from her entrancing blue. He stood from his chair then and smoothed out his waistcoat and trousers. "Would you like help with the washing up?"_

_Elizabeth also stood, gathering their dishes and taking them to the sink. "No, it's fine. I'll get it."_

_She then followed him to the foyer where Severus had already taken down his coat from the hook by the door. He turned around to find Elizabeth standing quite close to him. _

"_Thank you for dinner. It was…very kind of you."_

* * *

><p>Severus stopped talking then, looking to his sleepy daughter on the sofa. She wrinkled her brow.<p>

"That's it?" she asked. "Then you just left?"

Severus paused for a moment then inclined his head.

Zoe sighed as if exasperated. Clearly, she had wanted the story to continue. "Well, it was still madly romantic."

Both of Severus's eyebrows rose at that statement. "Do you really think so?"

"Oh, yes, Papa," she said matter-of-factly. "All the best romantic stories involve Bolognese."

"Of course," Severus said dryly, smirking.

"Do you have a lot stories like that?" Zoe asked.

"I wouldn't say I have many, no."

"Will you tell me another that you have?"

Severus stood then. "Not tonight. It's late and you have classes in the morning."

* * *

><p>As Severus crawled into his own bed ten minutes later, a sense of guilt overtook him as he contemplated the lie he'd just told his daughter. He hadn't left Elizabeth's flat so soon after dinner that night. More had happened but not anything he planned to tell his eleven-year-old…<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Severus?" Elizabeth began, looking first into his eyes and then lowering them to a point somewhere on his lapel. "I thought we should talk about, well, my kissing you that night you walked me home." <em>

_She looked back into his eyes, obviously gauging his reaction. Severus did his best to keep his expression as impassive as ever. The truth was that her kiss had been the catalyst of everything in the last several weeks. That kiss had spawned his thoughts to wander to her as he read, caused him to dream of her at night and spend waking hours telling himself that this woman was much too good for him. It had given him reason to chastise himself for not disciplining his mind to erase the errant thoughts he always seemed to hover on._

_He suddenly realized he didn't want to hear what she was inevitably going to say. As she opened her mouth to continue, he heard himself cutting her off._

"_You were intoxicated, not in your right mind. It's not an excuse, of course, but I understand. The kiss meant nothing."_

_Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard apparently._

"_Actually," she began, somewhat disheartened, "I was going to say it was rather nice." Elizabeth fixed her gaze on him, seeming to search for something in his eyes. "Didn't you feel it, Severus?"_

"_Feel it?"_

_Elizabeth looked perplexed. She seemed to inch closer to him with every word._

"_The spark between us. Didn't you feel it? It was like…I don't know…like magic or something. I've never felt anything like it."_

You've never kissed a wizard before_, he thought. Severus could feel his mind going cloudy. Every part of him was giving in as Elizabeth moved ever closer. He could smell the fragrant, fruity smell of her shampoo, the cleanliness of her perfume, as she reached out a hand and delicately touched the finely tailored seams of his waistcoat. _

"_That must sound completely mad," she chuckled lightly, touching each button in turn._

"_Not at all," Severus barely whispered. He couldn't contain himself any longer. He pulled her chin up so that she was looking at him and, in an act of pure spontaneity, he pushed his lips to hers. Elizabeth seemed surprised at first but quickly submitted to his affection, bringing her hands up to weave into his hair as his hands explored her neck, shoulders and back._

_Severus had never felt so much passion in his life. He didn't know how long they stood there in the foyer deepening the kiss, his topcoat lying discarded on the floor at their feet. He also had no recollection of how long it had taken them to make their way up the stairs to the modest bedroom on the landing above, fumbling with each other's garments._

_Slamming the door shut behind them and continuing to keep their lips locked together, Severus felt Elizabeth trail her hands down his chest to his waist, unbuckle his belt and move on to the button of his trousers. He moved his hands up and down her back, desperately wanting to explore the rest of her body when he realized he'd never been so anxious in his life._

_What if she didn't like what was about to happen? He opened his eyes and surveyed the room as Elizabeth continued to kiss his neck. His gaze settled on the large, wooden canopy bed occupying the better part of the space._

"_That's a handsome bed," Severus commented as Elizabeth unbuttoned his waistcoat and the gray, collared shirt beneath._

"_It was my parents'," she said offhand, kissing him on his neck, just above the hair on his chest. "No matter where we went, they shipped that bed all over the globe."_

_By this time, Elizabeth had maneuvered her lips back up to his mouth, pushing her tongue past his teeth._

"_Is it oak?" Severus asked after pulling away slightly from her kiss. Elizabeth persistently pulled him back toward her._

"_Oh, who cares? Would you really prefer to discuss the furniture?"_

_He definitely did not, but talking seemed to ease his anxiety slightly. He looked down into Elizabeth's kind, blue eyes and they seemed to yearn for him to kiss her passionately, so he complied. Her fingertips slid lightly over his now-bare chest and he shuddered._

"_No, not really," he stated huskily._

_They moved toward the enormous bed and the last thing Severus recalled thinking was that in all his years, he never imagined he would ever deserve this rare sort of perfection._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Whew! All done. Well? How was it? Let me know! Reviews are my LIFE FORCE! Please the life force needs replenishing!<em>**


	32. An Afternoon of Delayed Angst

_**Hello! Chapter 32, finally! Not much ado here. Enjoy.**_

* * *

><p><strong>An Afternoon of Delayed Angst<strong>

"If you are not downstairs in the next minute, I will not show you how to work the wards," Severus called up the stairs from where he stood below in his office, the door up to his Hogwarts quarters open wide.

"I'm _coming_," Zoe called back with exasperation in her voice.

After years of a rather laidback homeschooling routine, then a whole term living in separate residences, Severus had forgotten just how difficult it could be to get his daughter up, fed, and prepared for school in the morning for he hadn't had the need to do so on a schedule in nearly four years.

How the girl managed to get to her classes on time on her own baffled Severus for he couldn't recall before her having taken such an unreasonable amount of time in front of the bathroom mirror to adjust the solitary clip in her hair—for aesthetic rather than practical reasons, he'd finally concluded. He also hadn't understood why the set of clean, black school robes he'd handed her to wear over her uniform skirt and jumper had somehow been inferior to the identical set Zoe had finally decided upon to wear…

That disagreement alone had swallowed up over ten precious minutes of their morning.

Severus moved his teaching robes aside and reached for his pocket watch.

"Twenty seconds," he stated, having clicked it open to look at the face.

"I can't find my left plimsoll!" Zoe responded frantically.

"You are _not_ wearing plimsolls to class like some uncivilized American youth," Severus commanded evenly. "Mary Janes."

He heard Zoe huff in the sitting room above him.

"Five seconds," he said evenly.

The girl seemed to be under the impression that he was bluffing about refusing to teach her to take down the wards if she continued to dawdle.

He didn't need to carry out his threat, however, for Zoe started down the stairs an instant later, her rucksack over one shoulder and carrying her black Mary Janes on top of a book in her hands.

"Those are brand new tights and you're going to risk snagging them on the uneven hardwood?" he asked critically.

"The feet are reinforced. Minerva made sure," Zoe stated back at him, setting her book upon his desk so that she could slip her shoes on over the thick black tights. Severus pursed his lips as he closed the door to the stairs, the frame fading into the stone wall.

He waited patiently (though he didn't feel patient) while she stuffed the spare book into her school bag before waving her over.

"The wards to my quarters are tuned to me alone," he started.

"Then how will I—?" Zoe began to interrupt. Severus shot her a severe look to stop her interruption, but he should have anticipated her question. It seemed she got better at seeing the holes in scenarios with each passing day.

"The wards to my quarters are tuned to me alone," he started again when she had quieted, "as all the private quarters of Hogwarts professors are. _However_, there is something to be said for attuning wards to an individual. Can you think of what that is?"

Zoe wrinkled her brow, thinking. "I don't know. We're all different so, if it's just for you, then I don't know how I could get through."

"What sort of traits did we discuss that you and I share?" Severus asked, trying to nudge his daughter toward the right answer.

"Our eyes, except that mine change color. And our ears and knees and hands, kind of."

Severus gave a single nod. "And how is it that we came to share those traits?"

"Because I'm your daughter."

"Correct. So, biologically, what else could be concluded that we share?"

Zoe looked up, squinting her eyes as if such an expression helped the thought process.

"Er, some genetic stuff, I guess," she said. Severus smirked, pleased.

"And where is that 'genetic stuff' most notoriously contained?"

When Zoe looked back at him, her face alit. Severus knew before she even spoke that she'd figured it out.

"In the blood," she said.

"Well done. Yes. You and I share enough genetic markers as father and daughter to allow these wards—blood wards—to be manipulated by me to recognize and admit you. Any other person who wishes to enter here would have to be accompanied by me… or the wards would have to be entirely dissolved by a witch or wizard far more learned in the intricacies of warding than I."

Zoe nodded. "Wicked," she said breathily, apparently in awe.

Severus turned toward the expanse of wall. "Now, some professors prefer to conceal the entrances of their private quarters behind bookshelves or large plants, but I see little point of that considering the precautions we just discussed."

Severus looked back toward his daughter as she moved closer to the wall looking, unprompted, for signs of the magic that concealed the door.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

Zoe's eyes shifted up to him. "It's there," she said, pointing toward a very subtly indented line running vertically along a stone directly in front of her. Severus found himself smirking again.

"You'd think that, but no. That is merely an imperfection from the excavation of the stones. You will not be able to see the outline of the door until you have proven who you are."

"How do I do that?" she asked inquisitively.

Severus reached down, grabbed his daughter's right wrist, and lifted it up toward the stone. When her open hand was flat against the wall, the door's frame became visible, though still not tangible as a functioning door.

"Now, choose a password—a word or short phrase. If you don't wish for me to know it, you needn't say it louder than a whisper for the wards to break."

"What's your password? Shouldn't mine be the same?" she asked, looking up at him again. Severus arched an eyebrow.

"Our passwords are ours alone, linked to our individual genetic signatures. Yours will not affect the validity of mine, nor mine yours."

"But I thought it was the sameness of our blood that let me through?"

"It is. However, it does not need to be precise for blood wards. The door recognizes you as next of kin to me and, therefore, a legitimate entrant, but nevertheless a completely different individual."

"Oh," Zoe said. She seemed to contemplate for a minute before shifting her gaze to the stones and mumbling something under her breath. Severus didn't catch her password, but he didn't need to know it.

An instant later, the door to his quarters fully materialized and Zoe was able to turn the handle and open it. She smiled, happy that it had worked. Severus reached forward, closed the door once more, and watched Zoe observe it disappearing into the stones again.

"Come along now or we'll both be late for class," Severus said as he made his way toward the door out of the office, opening it. In the Defense classroom, he could already see sixth year Stellan Tate sitting at his customary seat in the front row, his sycophancy on full display. He looked up when they entered the room and smiled.

"Good morning, Professor Snape. And good morning, er, Miss Snape," he said, losing confidence almost instantly.

"It's Zoe," Zoe said a bit bitterly beside Severus. He didn't blame her. If the teenager were so keen to be in his teacher's good graces, he'd have the decency to know his daughter's name—especially considering they were in the same house and he was a prefect who had, no doubt, overseen at least one of the required first year study sessions last term.

"Yes, Zoe, of course," Tate said pleasantly, though a flush crept up his cheeks and he looked down at the cover of his Defense book as if a new message had appeared there for him to read.

Severus rolled his eyes as he escorted Zoe to the door.

"See you in a few hours," Zoe said as they stood just inside the classroom. She chanced a glance at the other student briefly before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him.

Severus gave the girl a light squeeze before they parted ways.

* * *

><p>Zoe was pleased that her first day back to classes following her illness had gone smoothly. She and her friends had fallen seamlessly back into their normal rapports and she had found that she enjoyed being back in her classes, many of which had seemed to get more interesting—especially her father's class.<p>

Caroline had expounded to Zoe as they settled into their seats in the Defense classroom that, in the last few weeks, Professor Snape's lessons had taken a bit of a detour from the syllabus, venturing into more practical defensive spells and tactics, rather than focusing on the Dark creatures or the history of specific Dark wizards that had been planned. It was a curriculum that Dominic Thomas, John's elder brother, had told them at lunch typically wasn't covered until at least midway through the second year. He'd also said that the newer, tougher emphasis on actual defense had been upped in all the years and that there were rumors that the N.E.W.T.-level students were even studying _actual_ Dark magic.

Of course, everyone had speculated that it had to do with the missing Death Eaters, who were consistently front-page news. Just that day, there had been a report from Brighton of another Auror being killed by one of the Dark wizards and, unfortunately, the emotional turmoil of the death had hit Hogwarts in a very real way.

"It was Persephone Winston's uncle who was killed," Glendora said sadly. "Professor Flitwick would only say that he died admirably fulfilling his Auror duties. Seph's been crying all day and her parents can't come get her until late because they're arranging things."

"She's a third year?" Caroline asked.

"Fourth, I think," Glendora responded. "It's so sad."

Everyone nodded in solemn agreement.

"Well, clearly, McGonagall's trying to prepare us in case we have to fight," John had said casually then. "Considering how Defense has been going lately."

"Fight?" Zoe had asked skeptically. "I doubt it. She probably just caved to pressure from Papa. He hates teaching about Dark creatures in Defense."

"He does?" Lottie asked.

Zoe nodded. "I've heard him say before that he thinks that Dark creatures are soft subjects meant for younger children and that we shouldn't be focusing on it once we get to Hogwarts. _And_ he thinks that the really dangerous stuff should be taught in a mandatory Magical Creatures course after third year instead of in Defense at first and second year."

She highly doubted her godmother (or her father, at that) would want children to fight anything. Besides…_fight_? That was absurd. Why would the missing Death Eaters come to Hogwarts so that they could fight students? She had every confidence that the Aurors would round them all up soon anyway—at least, she hoped they would.

"I mean, we all know what grindylows, glumbumbles, and doxies are anyway," she stated logically. "And we'll learn all about werewolves and kelpies and all the Darker creatures when we're older."

By the look on his face, John hadn't seemed to agree with Zoe, but he'd merely shrugged and let it go as the aforementioned professor swept into the room.

"We will be continuing our study of defensive tactics," he said smoothly, turning to face the class. He took his wand from his robes and pointed it to the blackboard. Instantly, the word _Deception_ appeared there in chalk.

"Deception," he began, "the altering of physical appearance or circumstances by an adversary, is something you could very well face in your lifetimes should another witch or wizard wish ill of you."

"Deceptive circumstances we will address a bit later in the term. For now, we shall focus on counteracting the manipulation of appearance one may use to obtain information, to commit sabotage, or to get close to others for…nefarious reasons."

He spent a large portion of the class lecturing on various techniques used as disguise by wizards from human transfigurations including Animagi to the Polyjuice Potion and Disillusionment. It was all highly fascinating to Zoe but, if she had to admit it, it was a bit unsettling as well. It was frightening to think that there were people out there that were so bad that they'd want to change their appearance in order to do bad things. The mere thought made her shudder.

"Now, as some of you may have noticed, this topic is slightly more advanced and in-depth than our first year curriculum requires. However, the Headmistress believes it to be…necess— _beneficial_ to begin proper defensive education younger than previously ascribed. Up to now, we've merely talked theoretically, practiced simple, childhood spells. From now forward, things will progress a bit more rapidly, so prepare yourselves."

Zoe's father looked around the room. Every student was watching him raptly and he seemed to pause, giving them all sufficient time to absorb his statements before he continued.

"I pose to you all a hypothetical," he said then. "Suppose you noticed a relation of yours—a well-known relation such as your parents or perhaps an aunt or uncle—acting erratically, behaving in a way that you are not accustomed to them behaving. You suspect that they may be someone else, morphed by magic to look and sound and move exactly like your relation, but off in some way. What could be a way you could covertly—or perhaps not so covertly—determine whether they were who you think they are?"

Zoe looked to her left as Lottie, sitting beside John, raised her hand.

"Miss Wickham."

"Everyone has a favorite food. So, if your uncle or something enjoyed meat pies, you could make one for him if you thought he was someone else and, if he didn't seem to like it as much, you could know that it wasn't your relation."

Zoe watched her father incline his head.

"That could possibly work, though something such as food would be a difficult control to determine identity, for the imposter could enjoy much the same foods as your uncle; it isn't uncommon for those within the same culture to have similar tastes, after all. You also must think should someone wish to impersonate your uncle that they'd make an effort of knowing what his favorite foods were."

"Yes, I suppose," Lottie admitted, sitting back in her seat and wrinkling her brow, thinking critically on the professor's logic.

"Two points to Slytherin," her father said then, catching Zoe's eye. She gave him a grin, happy that he seemed to be genuinely trying to encourage the students.

"Anyone else?" he asked.

"You could ask them what they got on their O.W.L.s or something," Lyle Abner said then.

"High-level test scores are a matter of public record, Mr. Abner, and easily obtained. Though, like Miss Wickham, you are on the right track. Two points for Ravenclaw."

The students seemed bolstered by the awarding of points from the stingiest of their professors and many held their hands in the air in order to put forth their ideas of how best to decipher if someone was who they said they were.

"Ask them their favorite color," Jedidiah Zabini said.

"Would you say you have a close relationship with your parents, Mr. Zabini?"

"Yes, sir."

"So you could tell me their favorite colors?"

"Er..."

"I didn't think so. Information such as a person's favorite color is often arbitrary, not always well known even amongst their closest friends and family, and can change from year to year. It would not be a sufficient question."

"Ask them their mum's maiden name or something," Excelsius Bogg put forth.

"Too easily researched," the professor responded.

"What about their favorite Quidditch team?" Michael Pickering asked.

At this, Zoe rolled her eyes. Her father's answer was obvious.

"The question has to be more personal than _that_," Zoe said rather loudly then. She hadn't intended to say it aloud at all, really. In fact, she'd written _'ask them a really personal question'_ on the parchment she had been taking notes on when her father had first posed the scenario. But she had intended to sit quietly and listen while her peers did much of the guessing.

Everyone looked around at her and, in that second of reflection, Zoe knew she'd come off as rather rude and pompous in her response to her classmate. She could feel her cheeks flushing a bit.

"Elaborate," her father said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed genuinely curious for a response from her.

Zoe took a breath, weaker and less fortifying than she had hoped as she suddenly thought that she'd welcome her session with the nebulizing bubble in an hour or so.

"Er, if you want to know if someone is the person you think they are, I think that a question is a really good idea," she started. "But it has to be more personal than asking them their favorite Quidditch team. It has to be something that only they would know."

"Yeah, like something you said to them once, but only to them," John said then, expanding Zoe's answer. "If they couldn't answer that kind of a question, you'd know they weren't the person you thought they were and you could call the MLE."

Zoe's father gave a single nod of approval. "I hope you all wrote down exactly what Miss Agnew and Mr. Thomas have just explained," he said, a tone of warning in his voice. "You'd be remiss to believe it will not show up on an exam."

Everyone quickly worked to write something about personal questions as a defensive tactic in their notes just as the bell rang, ending class. As usual, nobody moved from their seats until her father had assigned that week's essay and verbally dismissed them.

"Blimey, if I thought they were someone else, I don't think I could ever come up with a question only I know about my parents," John said as soon as they were in the corridor. "I reckon Dom and Gabe know all the same stuff about them that I do. I mean, what if one of them tried to impersonate my dad with Polyjuice or something? I'd be doomed."

"Polyjuice is a Ministry-controlled potion," Zoe stated then. "Your brothers couldn't just walk into the apothecary and buy it."

"You think that'd stop them?" John asked.

Zoe smirked. She didn't really understand the sibling rivalry of the Thomas brothers, but it amused her.

"Why would your brothers want to impersonate your dad?" Lottie asked then.

John shrugged. "I don't know why. I never know _why_. I just wouldn't put it past 'em if they felt they wanted to pull off the greatest prank ever or something at my expense."

Zoe was fully grinning now. By this time in the school year, she'd heard many stories of John's years with his brothers. She could perfectly imagine such a prank.

"Well, I don't really think the question is necessarily something only you and your parents know. I think it just has to be something that someone that wasn't in your immediate family would know," she said logically then. "You know, so you could identify friend versus foe."

"So what would your question be, then?" John asked.

Zoe gave him an exasperated look. "I can't tell you! That would defeat the purpose."

"Just testing you," John teased. Zoe rolled her eyes again.

* * *

><p>That evening, just after dinner, Zoe made her way to the library. She had a bit of catching up to do in Charms and Transfiguration, particularly, and she wanted to research and practice as many of the spells she'd missed during her illness as she could.<p>

When she entered, it was relatively vacant. A few upper level students were sitting at tables, their heads in thick books. No doubt, they were getting in some extra studying for their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, which seemed far off, but would be upon them faster than any student wanted to admit. Zoe had her own exams to think about, but she knew that now was not the time. She needed to focus on catching up first.

Crossing nearly the length of the library, Zoe took a seat near the recent history section. She had decided that, once she finished studying and practice for Charms, she'd reward herself by finding a book about the war—particularly one that explained the Battle of Hogwarts and her father's role in it—before moving on to trying to transfigure into a teacup the snail in the small jar she'd brought with her.

Charms had really taken her little time. With the quiet of the library, she'd been able to concentrate without difficulty and the four spells her classmates had learned in her absence had streamed from her wand rather easily. Of course, Zoe had been bolstered by both her father's and her mother's words to her about not fearing her power or the temperament of her wand so she was making a concerted effort not to.

And the spurt of confidence seemed to make her wand do precisely what she wanted it to.

It took a few tries to get the _Reparo_ spell just right, however. She had several pencils that she'd brought with her, breaking them in two in order to then mend them, but after she'd gone through all five, she still couldn't get them completely repaired. The best effort had only managed to repair the lead inside, but the wood was still splintered and decidedly in two pieces.

"You've got to swirl your wand in more of an oval."

Zoe looked up at the familiar voice. James Potter stood there, a book and a scroll of parchment under his arm.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, a bit surprised by his presence.

"The common room's too noisy to study," he said nonchalantly. "But, yeah, you have to swirl your wand more like an oval."

"Wasn't that what I was doing?" she asked, looking down at the pencil in front of her. She wrinkled her brow.

"It was more like a circle," James said, moving into the chair across from her. He sat on his knees, leaning toward her over the table. "See, you have to include the whole pencil. So, the oval has to be big enough to include all of it, like this."

He waved his own wand over the pencil. "_Reparo_," he incanted. The pencil instantly repaired itself.

Zoe picked it up and examined it. It was perfect in every way.

"Papa doesn't have to envelop the whole thing when he transfigures. I saw him change an old sofa into a big planting box for his puffapods once and he just made a little circle with his wand," Zoe said, giving James a skeptical look.

"Yeah, well, you're a first year and he's a really powerful wizard, isn't he? When you're first learning, you have to include the whole thing in the spell, otherwise, it won't work completely."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste at James's tone, but she couldn't refute what he said. It seemed logical.

Instead of trying on one of the other pencils that was still broken, she snapped the one that James had just repaired in half again and set the two pieces on the table in front of her. She cleared her throat and, making sure to swirl the tip of her wand around the entirety of both pieces, she incanted the spell.

"_Reparo_."

Instantly, the two pieces slid toward each other and melded perfectly together before her widened eyes.

She picked the pencil up again to examine it.

"There isn't even a crack," she observed, looking up to James in awe.

"I told you it'd work that way," he said.

"Thanks," Zoe responded gratefully.

She then proceeded to repair the other four pencils on the desk as James watched. When she'd finished, she looked to the second year once more and smiled.

"You've got the hang of it now," he said, opening his book before taking a quill and a small jar of ink from a pocket inside his robes.

"So, what did you come to study?" she asked curiously.

"Potions," he said, lifting his textbook to show her. "Professor Goode wants me to write a three-foot-long supplemental essay about the poisonous qualities of belladonna."

"A supplemental essay? Does he want you to expand on something you said in class or something? Like, an independent study?"

James looked a bit embarrassed then. "Er, no. He said it was either that or two weeks of detention for 'unsupervised and potentially-deadly experimentation'."

Zoe's eyes widened again. "You didn't try to put belladonna into something that would explode, did you?"

"Not _explode_… just, you know, eat through wood and stuff. Apparently, if you add it to a hair-raising potion, it's wicked corrosive."

Zoe merely shook her head. "You're lucky Professor Goode's so nice," she said. "Papa'd go spare. He wouldn't give you the option of a long essay or detention. You'd just get detention—after he tried to have you expelled most likely."

"Yeah, I've heard horror stories from my Uncle George. But…" James shrugged. "Uncle George and Fred did that kind of stuff all the time when they were students and your dad taught Potions and they never got expelled or anything. Now Uncle George is wicked successful."

Zoe pursed her lips. She thought it rather foolish of James to think that just because he knew a success story regarding troublemakers meant that most troublemakers went on to be successful. But she was really trying not to judge him for she did need his help.

"James…" she began slowly as he started to take notes from a chapter in the middle of his textbook. He looked at her. "It's kind of lucky you came into the library just now… See, I've been meaning to ask you… er, would you help me with some research?"

"For what?"

Zoe squirmed. "Uh… well, about the war. I just… I noticed that you know quite a lot about it and, well, I know hardly anything and I'm really interested in it. I want to know more."

"You want to know about your dad." He said it succinctly, clearly seeing through her roundabout explanation. Zoe decided in that instant that she wouldn't lie to him.

"Yeah, I do."

"Why don't you just ask him?" James asked. "My dad's dead honest with me when I ask him questions about it. Yours may be too."

"I doubt he'd tell me anything," she said, looking away. "He doesn't like to talk about the past that much and, well, I kind of think there are things he doesn't want me to know."

When Zoe looked back to James, he seemed decidedly uncomfortable, guilty even. He looked down to his book, picking at the edge of the pages.

"I don't know if I should, then…"

"Please?" Zoe pleaded. "I'll be so grateful."

James looked up and his eyes locked with hers. They stared at each other for only a moment before he let out a great sigh.

"Okay, I'll help. Come on," he said, standing. He walked around the table toward the first set of shelves in the history section.

"There's a book my dad let me read just before I started Hogwarts. It's around here somewhere… Here."

James pulled a tome from the shelf and handed it to her: _The End of the Dark Lord: The Battle of Hogwarts Explained_.

"It has some stuff about your dad in there."

"Excellent," Zoe said, excited. The book wasn't overly long. Even if she were to read it leisurely, she'd probably finish it by the weekend. "Any more?"

"Er, yeah. Hang on."

James moved around the bookcases, running his fingers over the spines, skimming the titles.

"_The Voldemort Years_ is pretty good," he said, pulling it off the shelf and handing it to her. "He's definitely mentioned in it a few times. I bet you could find the specific pages in the index. And, oh! You should read _Heroes of the Second Great Wizarding War of the 20__th__ Century."_

James moved a little farther down the aisle. "Here it is," he said, pulling a rather thick book from the shelf. "Both our dads are in this one and a lot of our professors, too."

"Wow. Okay. Thanks. I think this will be a good start for me," Zoe said, pulling her gaze from the title of the last book she'd been handed to James. His face looked uncomfortable again.

"What's wrong?"

James shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking about, erm, that essay for Professor Goode. It's going to take a lot of time. I should probably get back to it."

"Yeah, of course," Zoe said. "I need to study Transfiguration."

The two students returned to their table, Zoe setting the three library books on the table beside her. They didn't speak for the next hour until Zoe rose to head back to the Slytherin common room—it was only fifteen minutes to curfew.

"I'll see you later, then," she said to James who was finishing a sentence on his page.

James looked up at her and nodded once before going back to the beginnings of his essay. As she strode up to the librarian to check out the books, Zoe felt thrown off by how he'd become so withdrawn all of a sudden. Was it something she had said? It had seemed like a fairly innocuous conversation and he'd seemed eager to find the books he knew would help her with her research…

She tried to expel it from her mind. After all, perhaps he _was_ just worried about getting that essay finished and was therefore distracted.

* * *

><p>"Are you really teaching the sixth and seventh years Dark magic?" his daughter asked unsolicited as she strode into his office for her daily potions regimen around mid-morning on her first Saturday after returning to classes.<p>

"I am certain you have been instilled with the courtesy to knock before entering a private office," he said with annoyance as she sat in a chair across from him.

"The door was ajar," Zoe stated defensively.

"And 'ajar' is a free invitation to enter without first confirming that you are welcome?"

"Kind of."

"Really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. His daughter had the gall to smirk mischievously at him.

"Maybe not for other people, but it is for me when it's your office door that's ajar." Then she grinned—a cheesy expression showing off her teeth—and he couldn't be annoyed any longer.

Severus merely shook his head and began pulling the seven vials of required potion from the upper drawer of his desk. He lined them up on the surface as Zoe dutifully began uncorking and taking them.

"The Pepperup, too," he said when he noticed that she'd left one untouched.

"I'm not congested anymore," Zoe said in response, her face lined into a stubborn frown.

"As you well know, it is not only used to combat congestion. It is also helpful in the continued boosting of your immune system," he told her. The girl glared at him but didn't argue further about taking the potion.

"It's disgusting," she complained once she'd downed it, shuddering, as smoke wafted out of her ears.

"It's only a few more days of potions," he reassured, banishing all the vials at once. "With luck, Madam Pomfrey will give you a clean bill of health at your appointment with her on Wednesday." Zoe nodded.

When he leaned back into his chair to continue looking through the fourth year textbook he'd been perusing before she'd entered, Zoe pulled her chair closer to the front of his desk so that she could lean onto the front of it, her chin resting on her arms.

"So, is it true?" she asked, getting back to the question she'd initially sought the answer to.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you think?"

The girl's eyes strayed from his as she contemplated. "Well," she began, "I guess you _are_ the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and you have fought against Dark Magic before…"

She locked eyes with him. "And you have all those books about Dark Arts that you won't let me read… So, yes?"

"It is difficult to truly learn defense of a thing without having full understanding of what that thing is," Severus stated academically. "To put any rumors you're hearing to rest, yes, the N.E.W.T.-level students are learning some principles of Dark Arts, but it is a rather meager amount and strictly theory. The Board of Governors would never allow for the practice of the Dark Arts within these walls."

Zoe didn't respond, but she looked pensive for several minutes.

"What is it?" he asked.

Zoe looked into his eyes once more and Severus was surprised to see that her eyes had morphed to the unsettling melancholy green. He had no idea why the conversation they'd been having would have caused that to happen.

"I've been thinking…," she said slowly, sitting up straight now. She started running her index finger along the edge of his desk. "And I decided, er, well, I think I want to know…"

Zoe paused and took a deep breath. She seemed frustrated by her own inability to spit it out. Severus merely waited patiently. It never helped to rush her and he could tell she was trying to be honest, to say something that was hard for her. If that was the case, he couldn't fault her anxiousness.

After a minute, she started again, looking into his eyes and, when she spoke, he could tell she was trying to control a slight shake in her voice.

"We've been talking a lot about Mum lately and, well, um… I think I'm ready… Will you tell me how she died?"

Severus tried to keep his expression as impassive as possible, but it took him quickly slipping into Occlumency to attain control of his features. He'd not expected this question, for it was rather far off topic from what they had just been discussing.

Despite the timing of it, however, if he were honest with himself, he really had expected it to come sooner. Of course, Zoe had never pushed a conversation that she'd seemed to sense he wasn't comfortable with (which included her mother) and she'd always been very trusting that he'd tell her what she needed to know in due course— and that he'd tell her the truth.

But in this moment, now, he could tell that she was unlikely to leave this office without the honest answer that she sought.

And she deserved to know the answer to this question. He'd never kept it from her, of course, but he'd never been forthcoming with it either. He supposed, now that he thought about it, he'd always been waiting for _her_ to initiate the conversation in her own time, for _her_ to ask the inevitable question.

And now she had and he didn't want to tell her. She'd entered into his office in such high spirits; though he now had the impression that she'd done so in order to test the waters, to find out if he would possibly be amenable to discussing the topic with her. Perhaps she'd even been playing a part, acting on some unconscious defensive mechanism as a means to be strong. Perhaps this wasn't a question she'd asked on a whim, but something she'd been thinking about for quite some time, something she'd been ramping up to over the last few weeks. He was inclined to believe that was the case.

Nonetheless, he didn't want to quash the affability that she'd conveyed only minutes ago. He didn't want to take her joy from her—even briefly—as this topic was likely to.

And, Merlin, did he hate seeing that color in her eyes. It made him feel utterly helpless.

Severus shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat.

"Your mother—"

He hadn't been looking directly at Zoe as he'd begun to speak, but a movement she made caught his eye. She'd sat forward once again and the look on her face nearly broke his heart. She was steeling herself for the news and she was clearly frightened by what she thought she was about to hear.

Suddenly, the desk between them seemed like miles of distance, like an obtrusive wall. It seemed clinical and all wrong for this conversation.

Severus stood.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested.

Zoe stood and followed him through the magical door and up the flight of stairs to his quarters. Once there, she settled onto the sofa as Severus brought up the flames in the fireplace.

"Ollie."

The house elf popped into the room in an instant.

"Mister Severus is calling for Ollie?" she asked, bowing low. She spied Zoe a moment later. "And Miss Zoe!"

"Hi, Ollie," Zoe said kindly, smiling.

"I wonder if we may burden you for some tea…" Severus asked the elf as he glanced to Zoe whose face was anxious once again. "And, perhaps, some lemon cakes, please?"

"Miss Zoe's favorites! Right away, Mister Severus! Ollie is happy to bring tea and cakes."

"Thank you."

Ollie disappeared as quickly as she had appeared and Severus stepped slowly toward the sofa. Zoe looked up at him. She bit her lip anxiously.

"You _are_ going to tell me, aren't you?"

Severus inclined his head. "I absolutely will if you wish to know," he said concisely, his hands clasped behind his back. "You have every right to know."

Zoe nodded and then startled as Ollie popped back into the room with a tea tray.

Severus served and, as soon as the both of them had warm teacups in their hands, he settled onto the sofa beside his daughter.

"Your mother's death was rather tragic," he began.

"Stop. Wait," Zoe said then.

Severus paused and watched as his daughter took a large, fortifying gulp of her tea before setting the drink on the side table, kicking off her trainers, and turning her whole body toward him. She brought her knees up to her chest and gazed directly into his eyes.

She took a deep breath.

"Okay, I'm ready now."

Severus inclined his head and continued. "As I said, your mother's death was rather tragic, but there's little point in embellishing the facts."

Zoe looked at him expectantly and he ploughed on.

"She was working for a hospital in London—"

"As a children's doctor," Zoe said. Severus nodded once.

"She hadn't been there long, just a few weeks when we first encountered each other. Madam Hinkle was informed by several of your mother's colleagues that your mother continued to work well into her pregnancy with you—as many Muggle women seem to do these days—and she never complained of having any complications. It had apparently been an easy, enjoying experience for her, carrying you, I mean."

His daughter nodded and there was a subtle upturn of her lips.

"One night late into her pregnancy, she was working past her normal shift. She had already had a long, full day and was most likely exhausted when she slipped and fell, hitting her head."

Zoe gasped.

Severus stopped talking immediately. He looked to his daughter with concern. "Do you wish for me to continue?"

Zoe looked into the fire for a moment and Severus could see by its light that tears had already started to form in her eyes.

"Yes," she said quietly after several moments. She looked back at him. "I'm okay."

Severus watched her, looking for any sign in her face that this was too much for her, but there wasn't any. It was upsetting her, certainly, but she was being exceptionally strong and composed.

"At the time," he began again, "it was believed that your mother was merely concussed, but the fall was cause for concern regarding you. It was decided among the doctors caring for her that an emergency delivery was needed in order to assess and treat you for any injury. So, just after midnight on September the first, you were born."

"Your mother was awake and coherent during the delivery. It is my understanding that she, in fact, did get to hold you in her arms briefly but, minutes after, she experienced a massive seizure and died. It was later determined that the fall brought about an aneurysm in her brain."

Tears streamed down Zoe's face now, but she didn't say a word. When she sniffled, Severus pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. As soon as she'd initially wiped at her face, he took hold of her arm and pulled her closer to him.

Zoe settled into his side as he put his arm around her. She wept quietly for several minutes.

Severus didn't speak. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't imagine what he could possibly say.

"Was I injured in the fall?" Zoe asked eventually, her voice somewhat nasally.

Severus, with a heavy heart, shook his head. "Not that the doctors could determine. However, you are a witch and therefore endowed with your magical abilities at conception. It would have taken something considerably more damaging than a fall to injure you or make you ill whilst in the womb."

"But I thought magical babies are the same as Muggle ones?"

"And so they are in as much as magical adults are the same as Muggle adults."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "I don't understand," she said.

Severus thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to explain so she could comprehend.

"We are all human. Therefore, if you cut yourself, you would bleed as a Muggle would. If you fall, it would hurt as much for you as it would a Muggle."

"But…you just… er, _eluded_ that my magic kept me from being hurt when Mum fell."

"I did. And that is where the magical and the Muggle differ. As the fall was described to me, I imagine you were mildly injured. I don't know how you couldn't have been. However, our magical cores—especially as infants and very young children—have a way of regenerating injured tissue much faster than a Muggle child's does, within minutes depending on the severity and nature of the injury. It's most likely an evolved trait from a time when it was much more difficult for magical children to make it out of infancy due to injuries sustained from accidental magic; it is a trait that allows us our longer life spans and immunity from many diseases. Even if you had suffered bruising or even a broken limb from the fall, by the time the doctors had delivered you and examined you for injuries, it's likely that your magical core had already healed you."

Zoe's eyes were glossy, but she seemed to be processing what he'd just said.

"But… I still get colds too, sometimes," she said. "Just like Muggles."

"Indeed. Many illnesses can carry over from Muggles to witches and wizards, such as colds, but many illnesses are designated to just one or the other. A non-magical person, for example, could never contract the elven influenza from which you are still recovering, just as many Muggle childhood illnesses, such as the measles, are never contracted by magical children."

Zoe's brow was still knitted together.

"It's complicated to understand," he said. "Healers study such things for years. The main thing to keep in mind is the magical have regenerative abilities that far surpass that of our Muggle brethren. You may get a cold, but you will spend considerably less time suffering from it than a Muggle. And, as an infant, your injuries were quickly healed while your mother's contributed to her death."

The girl looked away from him into the fire.

"So, it's kind of true what Scorpius said, then, isn't it? That Mum died because she was weaker—because she was a Muggle."

"Zoe," Severus scolded sternly then, his voice low. Zoe looked to him, her face a conflicted array of emotions. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again."

Zoe tried to push away from him a bit then, but Severus was not so quick to allow her to get away. The arm he'd had wrapped around her flexed to hold her in place.

"But it's true, isn't it? You just said…"

"I said no such thing."

"But you _did_. You just explained that I was able to regenerate better because I'm magical and Mum couldn't because she wasn't. You just said it!"

Zoe pushed away harder then and ran from the room. A moment later, Severus heard the bathroom door slam closed behind her.

He sat there puzzled.

He hadn't thought that Zoe would react so adversely to the knowledge of the natural difference between Muggles and the magical. And he hadn't _intended_ to give her the impression that her mother was somehow weaker for being a Muggle for there was really no way of knowing that a witch in the same circumstances wouldn't have succumbed to the same fate. Muggles were not _weaker_ just…different from wizards. In an opposite and equal way that magical folk were different from Muggles.

He supposed it was still too complicated and intricate a subject for Zoe's eleven-year-old understanding. And, clearly, she was starting to grieve for the mother she'd never known, as evidenced in this rather unexpected outburst. Seeing as how the period for denial had long since passed—at this point, there was no refuting the woman's death and absence from her daughter's life—Zoe had rocketed straight to anger, it appeared.

Giving a great sigh, Severus stood from the sofa and walked into the corridor, stopping outside the bathroom door. He listened for a few moments. When he heard nothing, he knocked.

"Zoe, if you do not wish for me to enter, say so," he said. There was no response from the other side so, slowly, he turned the handle and opened the door.

When first he entered the bathroom, he didn't see his daughter, but a sniffle led him across the room to the ornate, deep-basined, claw-footed bath.

Zoe was curled on her side inside the bath, her knees bent nearly to her chest, and his handkerchief crumpled in her hands, which were partially covering her face. She met his eye when he looked down on her, but quickly averted her attention back to the plain white porcelain. A moment later, she was crying full on again.

"It's not fair," Zoe said in the same petulant manner she normally utilized when those words came from her mouth except, this time, they didn't bite. They were much more downhearted as her raw emotions streamed from her.

Severus conjured a chair and sat down. He found himself reaching toward the girl, resting his hand on her shoulder. "You're right," he said. "It is not fair that you have grown up without the mother that you deserved to have."

They didn't talk for several minutes. Severus allowed his daughter to cry, to grieve for the first time a woman who should have been present, but was taken entirely too soon. He tried to be comforting, rubbing her shoulder blade a bit with his hand, but he knew that this was still not an area of parenting in which he excelled. Therefore, he just tried to be present for her, to listen should she feel the need to say anything.

Several more minutes passed—he did not keep track of how many—but, eventually, Zoe's cries ceased to sniffles once more.

"It's so stupid," she said then, her voice soft and not sounding completely like hers no doubt due to an excess of phlegm in her nose and throat.

"Hmm?"

"That she died because of a stupid fall," Zoe elaborated. "It's the stupidest thing."

Severus raised a single eyebrow. "I rather agree."

Zoe met his eyes and nodded solemnly. Another moment and she sat up, sitting cross-legged in the dry bath, facing him.

"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly, wiping at her eyes.

Severus waved his hand indifferently. "You have every right to grieve in your own way."

Zoe looked down to her hands then and the handkerchief in them. Severus could see tears welling in her eyes again.

"It was rash of me to explain so academically what I just did about Muggles and wizards in regard to the death of your mother. It was inappropriate at this time. I apologize."

"It's fine," Zoe said quietly.

"It's not. I should have considered how you may interpret what I was saying."

Zoe looked up at him then. "But you said that we can only ever be responsible for what we say, not how people choose to interpret it. You were just teaching me about Muggles and wizards and… and, well, it _was_ interesting, even if it made me really sad. Don't feel bad, Papa."

Severus looked into his daughter's eyes. She'd changed them suddenly—green to pitch black in a flash—and he knew she was trying to convey her forgiveness to him. He felt his lips quirk up infinitesimally. He inclined his head.

"For the record," he stated. "Scorpius is a misinformed, horrible little boy. You need rarely, if ever, take anything he says to heart."

That made Zoe giggle and the sound made Severus's heart lift.

"He's your godson, Papa."

"And that absolves me from speaking the truth about him?"

Zoe giggled again but, when she grew quiet once more, she still had that melancholy look on her face. It started Severus thinking…

He sat back in his chair and gave his daughter a considering look.

"I'd thought to wait until you were a bit older, but I think it's time. I think you're ready to see your vault."

Zoe looked up at him once more, her brow wrinkled.

"_My_ vault? I have a vault? You mean, at Gringotts?"

Severus nodded. "You do. It's your inheritance—from your mother anyway. Her flat in London was sold after her death, but all her possessions were stored away for when you came of age."

Zoe's face alit with hope and anticipation.

"When can we go?"

"I'll have to arrange with Minerva but… soon." Severus stood then, vanishing the chair he'd conjured. He held his hand down toward his daughter. "For now, I do believe there are some lemon cakes that await us."

Zoe reached up and took his hand. She stood and stepped out of the bath then led the way back into the sitting room where Severus fully intended to allow her to spoil her dinner with confectionery if she wished.

* * *

><p>"The paperwork is in order. You may take her whenever is convenient for both of you, I would just need twenty-four hours notice from the exact date," Minerva expounded Tuesday morning, the day after Severus had made his official, written request to remove Zoe from the school premises for a day in order take her to London.<p>

He inclined his head. "Thank you. If it is not this coming weekend, it shall the next."

Minerva nodded.

He hovered in front of the Headmistress's desk for several moments as she looked down at some papers on her desk. When the silence became awkward, she looked up at him again, perplexed.

"Is there something else, Severus?"

He locked eyes with her for a moment then cleared his throat as he stood a bit taller, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Yes. There is something more. I…owe you an apology, Minerva."

Minerva's eyes rose in surprise. "Do you?" she asked.

Severus nodded once. "Indeed. I was snappish with you at a time when emotions were running high and… I was selfish to think that there was no one else who understood the anguish of watching Zoe suffer. I had no right to believe such a thing. You've been there since day one with her—with me. I should have confided in you rather than accusing you of having less affection for my daughter than I."

Minerva smiled kindly at him.

"An apology from Severus Snape? You should assess him for a Confundus, Minerva. Perhaps even an Imperius. The man's going soft."

Severus's scowl was, no doubt, murderous.

"That's enough, Phineas," the Headmistress stated sternly, looking over her shoulder to the offending portrait. She turned back to Severus. "Apology accepted, though you needn't have given one. As you said, emotions were high that day and I understood your pain. What matters is that Zoe is well now."

"Of course."

"All right," Minerva said then, standing. "I do hate to rush your leave, but the Head Boy and Girl will be here shortly. They've requested an audience with me."

Severus nodded moving toward the door to the Headmistress's office. "Anything the Heads of House should be cautious of in the coming weeks?"

"Oh, I doubt it. Mr. Andersen alluded to a request for extended hours for Hogsmeade visits. I imagine he and Miss Priscilla Pemberton are begrudgingly here on behalf of the student body. I've turned down extended hours for the last several years. It is a battle they are unlikely to win while I'm Headmistress."

"The quintessential spoilsport," Severus said dryly.

Minerva smiled again. "Hardly. Were they to propose extended hours for N.E.W.T students in good academic standing _only_ instead of for all those eligible for Hogsmeade visits, I'd give it strong consideration. However, I find that my professors hardly need the extra stress that chaperoning the more immature third through fifth years would undoubtedly cause."

"A decision of which your professors are immensely grateful."

* * *

><p><strong><em>I hope that one didn't require too many tissues. Though, I'm certain I'll owe 1066AndAllThat a box when I see her soon... ;)<em>**


	33. Revelations

**Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long getting this posted, but it's been a tough one to write... and I took a trip to Europe in the middle of all that in which I didn't write at all for two weeks. But, here it is. I do hope you like it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Revelations<strong>

Zoe had been to Gringotts with her father numerous times; she'd traveled on the unbelievably fast carts down into the depths of the bank on several occasions, but the ride this time seemed considerably more nauseating than normal. It may have had something to do with the fact that her vault seemed considerably further below ground than her father's so they were forced to endure the chaotic ride for longer. But she suspected, perhaps, that it was the feeling of anxiety and anticipation that had settled into her stomach and every nerve in her body at the prospect of seeing items that had once belonged to her mother that was making her feel vaguely ill.

As the cart moved ever deeper, Zoe pushed closer into her father's side for warmth and comfort. When she shivered next to him, he pulled out his wand and cast a warming charm around them both—an action that caused the goblin steering the cart to give him a rather annoyed and menacing look. Her father merely scowled back and the goblin said nothing.

"Why's it so far down?" Zoe asked then.

"The depth of one's vault is dependent upon the value of what's inside," her father responded. "Needless to say, your mother invested well in her lifetime."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, storing that information away.

After several long minutes, the cart slowed and soon stopped in front of an ornate door over which the number _865_ was visible. The door was similar in style to the heavy oak door that served as the entrance to her father's vault, but this one was larger and seemed to have a few more locks.

"Key?" the goblin—Klunk—demanded gruffly as Zoe's father held out a hand to help Zoe out of the cart.

"Yes, it's here," her father said, a bit of agitation in his voice as he retrieved the key from the pocket of his waistcoat and handed it to the goblin.

Zoe watched as the small creature put the antique key into the lock and turned it. Simultaneously, he placed his other hand onto the largest, lowest padlock, which glowed red for a moment before it unlocked with a resounding gong-type sound.

"When you're finished, ring the bell and a cart will retrieve you," Klunk said as he reentered the cart. "Gringotts strictly prohibits any movement away from the vault of the key holder. Doing so could result in imprisonment in Azkaban or a gruesome death."

Zoe's eyes widened as the cart moved away. "Was he being serious about a gruesome death?" she asked once the goblin was out of earshot.

"Most certainly," her father stated succinctly, pushing the door to the vault open and stepping inside.

Zoe hesitated at first but after a few seconds of standing by herself on the cold, dark, and narrow platform between the cart track and the row of vault doors, she took a deep breath and entered as well.

It was dark. Zoe couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face. She most certainly couldn't see her father in his black and grey Muggle attire but it was easy to ascertain where he was when she walked straight into his back, causing him to let out an "_oof_" and step forward to right his balance.

"Stand still," he commanded softly. "There are a few chandeliers I need to light. Do not look directly at them. _Lumos Maxima_."

A small, bright ball of white light shot out of the tip of her father's wand and zoomed up to the ceiling. When it collided with one chandelier, it seemed to explode, distributing the light to each one and effectively illuminating the whole room.

Zoe squinted in the brightness, her eyes having acclimated to the darkness of the catacombs beneath Gringotts but, when she was finally able to gaze upon everything, she felt her jaw drop.

It was not, necessarily, an enormous vault—only a bit larger than her father's really—but, whereas her father's vault had only an area of stacked wizard coinage and a set of alcoves with some parchment scrolls in them, this vault was packed very nearly to the brim. The room itself was round in shape and had a curved ceiling held up by stone arches, intricately carved with runes.

"What do they say?" Zoe asked, pointing up to the arches, unable to contain her curiosity.

Her father gazed up, reading. He frowned.

"It's a warning to thieves that they risk fire and dismemberment should they attempt to take anything from this vault," he stated.

"Fire and dismemberment?"

"It's meant to be metaphorical."

"So it isn't talking about the dragon?"

"Dragon?" her father asked inquisitively, looking back down at her. "What makes you think there is a dragon?"

"Isn't there?" Zoe asked. She'd always heard that a dragon guarded the deepest vaults of Gringotts. She'd thought it was common knowledge.

Her father looked a bit sheepish—for a fraction of a second—before he turned away from her. "Not anymore," he said lowly, somewhat under his breath.

Dominating a large portion of the vault was furniture. In the very middle, pushed against the back wall, stood a grand bed with thick, round posts at each corner, which held up a canopy of white linen. The mattress was covered with a single white sheet to keep the dust off.

Aisles had been created along each side of the bed from the entrance to the back wall, cutting the contents of the vault into thirds. On one side, to Zoe's left, and toward the back, was a sofa and a desk stacked with boxes, a side table, and a few table lamps. Several varying tables, chairs, tall lamps, and a large wardrobe stood to the other side of the vault—to the right. Atop much of the furniture, were books and boxes stacked everywhere in a rather haphazard arrangement. There were bags with unknown contents, a chest of drawers, a few suitcases, and two steamer trunks of similar size to the one that currently resided at the foot of Zoe's bed at Hogwarts.

In a corner just inside and to the left of the vault door was a white, wooden cot and an array of baby items—clothing, toys, stuffed animals, a stack of clean, cloth nappies, and a rather expensive-looking pram.

To Zoe's right, also near the door, were stacks and stacks of money—more than she'd ever seen in her life.

"These are all Muggle notes here," she said softly into the quiet of the vault. She reached out a hand and touched the stack nearest her, feeling the crispness of the fiver as she ran her hand over the face of Queen Elizabeth II.

"You can easily have it exchanged for Galleons, if you wish," her father said from where he was standing next to the cot, his hand upon the railing.

Zoe nodded distractedly. "I wasn't expecting so much."

"Your mother had no living relations but you, unfortunately, so this is everything she owned as well as a physical manifestation of her personal wealth from various assets that were sold after her death," he said, nodding toward the money. "I admit I was also rather overwhelmed with it all when I first came here."

"You've been here before?"

Her father nodded. "Where do you believe I got your earrings and necklace?"

Unconsciously, Zoe reached up with her right hand to touch the hummingbird necklace on her chest. She hadn't really thought about that at the time that she'd received those gifts. She supposed she'd just assumed her mother had given them to her father at some point but, knowing now how their relationship had ended, that didn't make much sense. Her mother would never have had the opportunity to bequeath them to Zoe through her father—he'd never even known her mother was pregnant when they'd parted ways.

"You're upset," her father said then. It was not a question.

Zoe looked up at him and shook her head. "No, I'm not. Not really. This stuff is yours too, I suppose."

"You suppose wrong."

Zoe wrinkled her brow and her father looked away from her, running his hand along the railing of the cot Zoe had never used.

"Nothing inside these walls belongs to me and, until I tasked myself with trying to find something meaningful for you on the day you began Hogwarts, I had never entered here. Frankly, I'm only allowed here because I am the executor of your estate until you're of age." He looked back to Zoe. "You understand that I was of no relation to your mother? We shared a child together, but we were not considered family in the eyes of the law, neither Muggle nor magical. Therefore, you are her sole beneficiary. I would not ever presume, for one moment, that I am entitled to so much as a penny from this vault."

Zoe looked back to the stack of money. "But… what if I _want_ to give you some of it? At least the money."

Her father gave her a rather exasperated look. "Do you believe me to be that strapped for cash?"

Zoe shrugged. "I don't know… Your vault isn't this deep... and we don't have a big house or anything…"

Her father raised a single eyebrow. "Stacks of Galleons in a vault do not necessarily reflect true wealth and we live modestly because there is no reason to live selfishly and in excess. However, let me reassure you that I do just fine for myself. You needn't worry on my financial behalf."

Zoe nodded and walked toward him. Standing next to the cot, she reached out to touch the mobile of plush toy lambs above it briefly before reaching into it and running her hand over a tiny quilt folded there.

"I could have used several of these items once," her father said casually beside her. "When you came to me, I was utterly unprepared for a child of any age, much less an infant."

Zoe didn't respond, not really knowing what to say to that. They were quiet for several moments, merely looking over the items in front of them.

"This makes me feel sad," she said aloud, though softly, then, voicing what she had been thinking. "Mum had everything ready for me and I never used any of it."

When she looked up at her father, his face was lined with concern. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. When a single tear leaked from her eye in the silence that fell between them, she brought up a hand to swipe it away.

Eventually, she moved away from him and the cot. She walked slowly about the vault, looking at everything, but hardly taking in what it was she was seeing—there was so much for such a confined space that it was a bit overwhelming. She ran her hands over the furniture and the covers of books, pausing to open them, reading the title pages.

Soon, Zoe came to the wardrobe and hesitated. It was a rather fine piece of furniture, taller and more ornate than her wardrobe at Spinner's End and the wood was darker, nearly matching the dark stain of the bed behind her. At the top of the doors were small, rectangular windows with frosted glass in them. Reaching out tentatively, Zoe put her hands on the bronze handles and slowly opened them both wide.

Inside was an array of clothing, hanging in place as if they had never been moved from her mother's flat. There were hangers of jeans and skirts, dresses and jumpers. To the far right, a rather fashionable-looking, black trench coat hung beside a decidedly unattractive, but practical, yellow rain jacket. Scanning the rest of the clothing, she noticed that her mother seemed to have an affinity for kelly green—many of her blouses, tops, and scarves were that color, as well as a long, one-shouldered, A-line dress that hung to the far left of the wardrobe, next to two plain, black dresses.

Quirking her mouth into a small smile, Zoe closed her eyes briefly and reopened them. A quick glance in the mirror attached to the inside of the wardrobe door confirmed that her eyes had morphed to match the color of so many of her mother's blouses.

Zoe looked briefly over her shoulder to her father then. He was perusing a book—as was typical of him.

Content that he was occupied and paying her little mind, Zoe leaned forward into the wardrobe, surrounding her face with the items hanging there. She closed her eyes and breathed in heavily, soaking up a clean, somewhat fruity scent that lingered on the fabrics—her mother's scent, still there after all these years. She spent several moments like that, giving her senses over to something she felt she'd been deprived of, something she should have known and taken comfort in from birth.

After that, Zoe spent a long time looking through the clothing, gauging her mother's style and preference of fabrics. She hadn't seemed to be one for high-class silks or overly fussed with intricately-designed fashions. In fact, she didn't seem to have been too concerned with much more than comfort and practicality with only a few items for dressy occasions—just like Zoe. And she'd seemed to have a love of jeans in general, for she'd owned several pairs. Once again, Zoe felt herself smiling in spite of the melancholy she felt deep within herself. It made her feel the need to envelop her head in the clothing once again.

"Zoe?"

Zoe jolted out of the wardrobe, standing up straight. Though she tried to control her expression, she could feel her face flush with embarrassment at her father having caught her with her face shoved into her mother's old clothes. It was such a silly thing to do.

However, he didn't give her so much as a curious glance as he waved her over to where he stood next to a small dining table stacked with boxes. He had one opened and a pile of items beside it clearly indicated that he'd been looking through it.

"Whoever packed your mother's belongings was rather efficient in the labeling the contents of the boxes," he said as Zoe drew close. She glanced down to the writing on the side of the box: 'personal effects'. "I thought you'd want to have a look."

Zoe nodded distractedly, peeking over the edge of the box to view the contents inside. The first thing she saw was a photograph—the still, Muggle kind—in a black, rectangular frame. Without pause, she pulled it out and stared at it.

It was clearly her mother (Zoe was astonished at how much of herself she saw in the woman) standing in front of some sort of flowering tree on what appeared to be an uncharacteristically sunny English day. She was smiling and carefree, dressed in a lavender, knee-length, wool skirt with a blouse of light blue tucked into the waist and ballet flats to match. Her hair was down—long and wavy—and blowing slightly into her face. She stood between two older people Zoe didn't recognize—at least, not at first. Upon further inspection, however, Zoe recognized a familiar shape to the older man's face. Her mother clearly took after him, which meant that she did too.

"My grandparents," Zoe said aloud, causing her father to lean toward her and view the photo.

"Yes, I believe that was taken when your mother graduated with her medical degree."

"What happened to them?"

Her father let out a large breath of air and she could tell by his expression that he was trying to remember for her. He shook his head.

"They were both deceased by the time I met your mother. Her father—Eddie, he was called—had died a little over a year prior to our meeting. It was some kind of cancer, if I'm not mistaken. I don't recall Elizabeth expounding when or how her mother died. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Zoe said softly. She pulled her eyes away from the photograph and looked to her father. "Do you know my grandmother's name?"

Her father shook his head again. "I don't recall."

Zoe nodded. She turned the frame over and opened up the back hoping there was a date on the back of the photograph. She was not disappointed: 20/6/1995. More than ten years before she was born.

"She seemed happy here," Zoe observed aloud, replacing the backing and turning the photo over again to look at it.

"I always had the impression that her relationship with her parents was strong and supportive. They were doctors and she followed that same career path."

"I wish I could have met them, too."

Zoe could feel her father's eyes on her for several moments as she continued to stare down at the photograph.

"I wish that for you as well," he said eventually, softly.

Zoe looked up at him with tears threatening to pool at the bottoms of her eyes. She took a deep breath and pushed it away.

"Thanks for bringing me here," she said then. She wanted her father to know that she was grateful, for she could tell in his expression that he was harboring some regret about the fact that seeing her mother's things was causing Zoe quite a bit of emotional distress.

Her father merely inclined his head.

Zoe set the photograph of her mother and grandparents onto the surface of the table and reached into the box again, this time pulling out a light brown, leather-bound diary with a magnetic clasp holding it closed. Engraved in the bottom right corner was a year: 2005.

It was the year Zoe was born. It was the year her mother had died.

Her eyes wide, she looked up to her father who was staring at her curiously.

"It's her diary," Zoe said, unclasping the magnet and opening it. She was ecstatic to see that nearly all the pages were full of writing. And there on the very first page, in what could only be her mother's tidy handwriting, were words that made Zoe's heart skip a beat and start to pump faster…

_My darling baby,_

_I only just discovered that you exist but I already know that I love you deeply, dearly, and completely. I have always wanted children, but meaningful relationships are hard to come by for someone who always seems to put others' needs before her own. It is a silly habit of your dear old mum's, but one of which I am not ashamed. It's a trait I'm told will be imperative in my role as your mother. I do hope that is right. I wish to be a wonderful mummy to you._

_And now you're here, my beautiful child, whatever you are. In this, my first diary entry for you, I want you to know your mother's love and her unequivocal excitement at the thought of you, the knowledge of you…_

Zoe stopped there. Slowly, she closed the diary and clutched it to her chest. She closed her eyes and breathed in a great breath, doing her best to keep from crying. She could become thoroughly engrossed in her mother's playful, sincere writing but she didn't want to do that here, now. That would be better suited to the privacy of her dormitory or even, perhaps, her bedroom at Spinner's End or Budhmor Firth. She wanted to take in and memorize every bit of her mother's diary—every one of her mother's words. And she wanted to be selfish about it, keep it all to herself.

Later. Later, she would read it all.

When she felt her roiling emotions calming, she opened her eyes to see her father staring at her. Zoe looked him in the eye and she could feel her own eyes morphing, but she had no idea what color had come through, for it hadn't been conscious on her part this time.

"I'm ready to go now," she said then. She knew she'd want to return to the vault—perhaps in a few weeks if her father was receptive to such a notion. But for now, with her mother's diary firmly in her arms, she was ready to leave.

Her father merely nodded and followed Zoe as she made her way toward the exit. To the side of the door, hung a thick, velvet-covered chain with an ornate tassel on the end. Her father pulled it and, almost immediately, a cart arrived in front of the vault, carrying a rather annoyed-looking goblin.

"Get in," he said gruffly.

As the cart started along the tracks back to the bank's lobby, Zoe heard the unmistakable clang of locks reengaging as the door they'd just exited disappeared from view.

* * *

><p>After arranging with a senior goblin for a few items from Zoe's vault to be couriered to Hogwarts—namely, photographs of her mother and family and a stuffed owl Zoe had pulled from the cot (she thought it looked a bit like Zeus)—Severus and Zoe walked solemnly out of Gringotts Bank and into the bustling Diagon Alley.<p>

It felt almost cruel to Severus to see so many families around them talking happily, going about their business completely oblivious to the somber emotions of the Snapes who had yet to move from the steps.

Severus looked sideways at his daughter. Her emotions were subdued, but she held the diary she'd found of her mother's clutched to her chest as if it were a lifeline. He put a hand on Zoe's shoulder in an effort to be reassuring. They had one more planned destination that day and Severus held no illusions that her mood would change much after it.

When they apparated to the countryside, Severus immediately looked around to assure they hadn't been seen. After all, with the grassy, low hills and minimal tree cover, there had been little choice but to merely apparate in and hope that the place was deserted.

Luckily, on this day, at this time, they were completely alone.

"Is this it?"

Severus looked to Zoe, whose expression was curious. He gave a single nod of his head. "We're just outside a small town called Whimple. It's there to the east," he responded, pointing to the smattering of buildings roughly a half mile in the distance.

It was a bit warmer here, and the area was not blanketed under a thick layer of grey clouds, as London had been. A slight breeze blew across the fields around them, delicately lifting his hair into the air.

"Where is she, Papa?" Zoe asked quietly, suddenly pushed against his side, her head resting against his upper arm as her eyes looked out upon the cemetery.

Severus reached into the pocket of his black, Muggle overcoat and pulled from it a small piece of lined paper. It was the plot number and general directions of the gravesite they were looking for—the sexton had given it to him when he'd come nearly a week before to arrange his and Zoe's visit that day. He hadn't gone to the grave then, just asked its whereabouts. Therefore, he would be viewing Elizabeth's headstone for the first time as well.

"It's near the southwest corner," he said, pointing in that direction.

He watched as Zoe's eyes followed the direction of his finger. She bit her lip in anticipation and nodded. Suddenly, her hand was in his, holding it tight. Severus gave it a light squeeze.

"We do not have to do this," he said, trying once again to reassure her.

Zoe shook her head adamantly. "No. I want to see her. I _need_ to see her."

Severus inclined his head and started to walk toward the correct section, his daughter's hand still in his.

The cemetery wasn't large and it was surrounded by a stone wall. The only structure near it was a tiny, stone church, long since fallen into disrepair.

"Why is she all the way out here?" Zoe asked. Severus could sense the tenseness in her body as they moved ever nearer to her mother. "I thought she lived in London."

"Your mother lived much of her life in London, but this is the location of her family plot," Severus explained. "As I understand it, your mother's father's family was tenant farmers in this area of Devon for several generations. She once told of a distant grandfather who was a member of the clergy of the parish when this church was built, fifty years before the outset of the American Revolution."

"Really?" Zoe asked, looking up at him, curiosity in her eyes.

Severus nodded. "Yes."

"Do you think Merlin's buried here too?"

Severus wrinkled his brow. "It's unlikely. Is there reason to believe he would be?"

His daughter merely shrugged.

"Maybe… Devon and Cornwall are Merlin and King Arthur country. I read that once."

"Did you?"

Zoe nodded confidently. "The author said it was the home of magic in Great Britain."

"The author would be correct. There's a rich history of magic here. The beginnings of many common spells used today originated in this part of England. But Merlin is unlikely to be resting in a small country cemetery near a town with as ludicrous a name as 'Whimple'."

Zoe gave a small smile and then turned to look toward their destination. Her smile faded.

"There she is," she said.

Severus followed his daughter's gaze only to be wracked with a sudden flutter of anxiety in his stomach upon laying his eyes on what they had come here to see.

Elizabeth's headstone stood upright and was modestly-sized in comparison to many around it. It was made of a light, grey marble and it jutted up from the ground to waist height. It was a simply-designed, rounded-topped marker with its most ornate feature being a single daisy blossom carved in the middle at the top. The inscription below the flower read:

**Elizabeth Claire Agnew**

**May 8, 1968 – September 1, 2005**

They stood in front of the grave, staring at it, for several moments until Zoe disengaged her hand from Severus's and took tentative steps forward. When she was standing close, she reached out a hand and rested it on the top of the stone.

"Hi, Mum," she said quietly. She looked back to Severus briefly, locking eyes with him. Severus saw her lips twitch upward infinitesimally before she turned back to the grave. "Papa brought me to see you. I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. We should have, I guess. I—"

Zoe looked down then, pausing. Severus knew that tears had probably started to well in her eyes as she took a steadying inhale of breath, but he made no move to console her—not yet. After a few moments, she knelt down onto her knees in the grass in front of the headstone and sat back onto her heels.

"I didn't know how much I missed you because… well, I never really knew you. But when you came into my dreams while I was ill, I knew I really did miss you quite a lot. I've been thinking about you since I started Hogwarts, too—like what it would have been like to get on the train with you there to see me off or writing to you to tell you about the spells I'm learning. Or…or maybe you would live at Hogwarts with Papa… Although, I read in _Hogwarts: A History_ that Muggles can't see Hogwarts, but I imagine that you'd beat the spell and that you could see it—"

"Zoe," Severus said softly, making his daughter turn to look up at him. He gave her a subtle shake of his head.

Although he didn't want to impede anything she wished to say to her mother, he also didn't want her to settle her thoughts onto what could have been, when it really couldn't have been at all. It was unhealthy.

The girl merely turned away from him.

"Anyway," Zoe said. "We went to your vault at Gringotts—my vault, I suppose. You wouldn't know Gringotts—it's the wizard bank. There's a lot of stuff… in the vault, I mean.… Papa found your hummingbird necklace there and gave it to me for my birthday a few months ago. I hope you don't mind. I really like it. I'm wearing it today." The girl looked down and took hold of her necklace, extending the hummingbird charm out toward the headstone as if to show her mother. "And for Christmas, Papa gave me your emerald earrings, which he couldn't have done if he hadn't let me pierce my ears first. He wouldn't budge on that for a few days, but I convinced him in the end."

Severus found himself smirking a bit, remembering her earnest statements several months previously that had swayed his decision regarding her ears. Now, he didn't regret the decision. After all, it had given him another ample opportunity to give Zoe something of her mother's that she could cherish.

"I can't wait to read the diary I found… But I get sad when I think about not having you around to talk to. Papa listens and always gives really good advice but, you know…" Zoe lowered her voice then to a whisper, but it was not quiet enough to keep Severus from hearing what she said, "we can't talk about girl stuff."

She then reached forward to touch the stone again, her fingers running along the carved letters of her mother's name. When she bowed her head and let out a sob, Severus finally went to her, reaching down and taking her arm to get her to stand. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, and let her cry into his coat.

Zoe didn't weep for long. Severus imagined that with all the stories he'd been telling her lately and the personal reflections she'd no doubt had following her journey with her mother on the Threshold, the bitterest part of her grief and loss was already starting to grow less acute with time. She was not through it yet, but she _would_ get through it. Of that, he was certain.

She'd seemed to grow distracted by something then, however, for she pulled away from him slightly, looking over his arm to something that had caught her attention.

"Papa, look," she said, her voice a bit nasally.

Severus turned his head.

There beside Elizabeth's headstone was another:

**William Edward "Eddie" Agnew**

**June 18, 1943 – December 6, 2003**

And written beside that:

**Anne Louise Getty-Agnew**

**April 15, 1947 – April 28, 2001**

"My grandparents."

Swiping her hand across her eyes, she moved away from him once more to stand in front of the duel headstone. She looked back to Severus briefly. "Her name was Anne. Anne Louise."

Severus nodded and Zoe looked back to the headstone. She reached out and touched the top of the marble just as she had done with her mother's before settling down onto her knees in the grass once more. For several minutes, she didn't speak or show any indication as to the emotion she was feeling.

Eventually, however, she did have something to say to them.

"I— I don't know what to call you… I've never had grandparents." Zoe turned to squint up at him as the sun peeked out of the clouds. "What did you call your grandparents, Papa?"

Severus raised a single eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his back. "I only had one pair to call anything. My grandfather was Grandfather Prince. He insisted I call him that and nothing else."

Zoe frowned. "That seems stuffy," she said.

"Indeed. He was a rather stuffy man. I was not fond of him as a boy."

"What did you call your grandmother? The one I'm named after—the one you liked."

Severus, in spite of himself, smiled at the thought of his cherished grandmother. In some ways, Zoe reminded him of his Grandmother Ophelia. It was her kindness—and her ability to forgive.

"In any conversation regarding her, she was Grandmother Ophelia. However, when I spoke to her, I addressed her as Grandmama."

"Grandmama…," Zoe said lowly, appearing to weigh the word. She mumbled it to herself several times, for several moments. She shook her head.

"I don't really like that either... sorry, Papa."

Severus shook his own head. "Call them what feels right for you."

"Lottie calls her grandparents Granny and Granddad. I like that."

She looked back to the headstone once again.

"Hi, Granny. Hello, Grandad. I'm your granddaughter, Zoe. Er… and that's my father—Papa. His name is Severus and he's a wizard." She pointed back to Severus briefly.

He raised his eyebrows at having been introduced to a gravestone. Again, he would not encumber her from saying whatever she wished to say, but he'd admit to himself at the very least that her words and actions made him feel a bit uncomfortable—a bit…awkward.

"And I'm a witch," Zoe continued. "I know you were Muggles—er, that's what non-magic people are called—but wizards and witches exist and I am one. It's great fun, even if the spells are hard to learn sometimes. But there are Potions too and I'm not too bad at brewing. Papa's a Potions Master, so he's taught me a lot about brewing and plants and poisons…"

Severus cleared his throat as a subtle reprimand.

Zoe looked up at him sheepishly then turned back to the headstones. "Okay, so he hasn't _really_ taught me anything about poisons… just to be careful around plants that are poisonous, so I always try really hard to be."

Zoe rambled on to her grandparents for another few minutes. Finally, however, she stood and, somehow, her mood had brightened. She came to stand next to him. Her expression was pensive.

"Do you think they're in an afterlife?"

Severus wrinkled his brow. He'd never been a spiritual man and he was not convinced of the idea of an afterlife. He'd most certainly not raised Zoe with any such notion, so it surprised him that she would ask such a thing. Therefore, he said the only thing that came to mind.

"I cannot be certain of an afterlife. However, I believe that the memories the living hold of the deceased is fundamentally significant. Their spirits, for lack of a better term, reside in you, in your heart and mind. Therefore, they can and do live on as long as you cherish and honor them. In that way, they are not forgotten."

Zoe looked up at him then and gave him a small, but genuine smile of reverence before she leaned her head against his arm and settled her gaze back on the headstones before them. Severus hadn't given his words to her much thought before speaking them and he found that he'd surprised himself with the amount of depth he'd conveyed. It had seemed to please and console his daughter, so that was all that mattered.

After several minutes of silence, Severus shifted and withdrew his wand from his coat.

"What would you say to a bit of embellishment?" he asked.

Zoe regarded him with confusion and curiosity. Giving her a smirk, he wordlessly began to carve into the grey stone beneath Elizabeth's name: _Beloved Mother of Zoe._

When he'd finished, he looked back to his daughter, who had tears pooling at the bottoms of her eyes once more. Her gaze was glued to the newly-formed words for several moments before her eyes met his.

"Thank you," she said weakly. When a tear leaked from her eye, she swiped it away. "We didn't bring flowers," she observed then.

"Easily remedied," Severus stated succinctly. With a wave, he conjured a bouquet of white and yellow English daisies for Elizabeth that Zoe placed on the grass at the base of her mother's headstone. Another spell and Zoe had a wreath of an assortment of flowers to set in front of her grandparents.

She stepped back to admire the floral arrangements.

It was not long after that that Severus and Zoe Disapparated back to Hogsmeade.

* * *

><p>It had been mentally hard and emotionally draining for Zoe to visit her mother's vault for the first time, to look upon all the things that she'd kept in life. Seeing the physical marker of her mother's death had been difficult as well, but it had also been freeing. For the first time, Zoe felt as if she had a connection to that part of her family; she could feel them with her. And she didn't want to disappoint them or their memory any more than she wanted to disappoint her living father and godmother.<p>

Though, when her father had first brought up the notion of taking her to Devon and expounded the reason why, a part of Zoe had felt guilty. Why hadn't she thought to ask him before where her mother was buried and whether he would take her to see the headstone?

Why had he never offered before?

She supposed it just hadn't been something either of them had prioritized in the past but, as Zoe grew older, the absence of her mother seemed to become more pronounced and almost physically palpable. She rationalized that, perhaps when she was younger, she hadn't given the thought of her mother as a physical person much thought. Her mother had been romanticized in her mind, an ungraspable apparition, someone she didn't actually have a memory of, like a character in a story. It was only recently that she truly began to feel that something—someone—was wholly missing from her life.

That night after their return, Zoe and her father had had a quiet dinner together in his quarters before he'd escorted Zoe to Slytherin House where she had gone straight to her bedroom and pulled the curtains around her four-poster. She didn't want to waste another second not reading her mother's diary.

Zoe became so engrossed in her mother's words that when she heard Lottie come into the room, she acted as if she was asleep, crawling under the blankets and reading by the light of her wand.

_I know it's only been a few weeks, but every day I get more excited to see you, Baby. And I wonder, will you be a girl? Will you be a boy? I've been thinking about how you'll look. Will you be tall or more petite? Will you have my unruly brown hair or will you inherit your father's black? Perhaps you'll surprise us with a hair color long buried in our genetics instead? Will your eyes be doe-eyed and fathomless like your father's? I do hope they are. It's one of his most striking physical features. But, I suppose, as long as you are whole and healthy, that is all that matters. As long as you know you are loved… And you are loved. I haven't even met you yet, but I know that I love you._

Many of the entries at the beginning seemed to be like this, Zoe noticed—just her mother expounding how much she was loved. And, as much as it warmed her heart to read it, Zoe felt as if she wanted something more. She wanted to know about her mother, wanted to know her personality, what sort of things she enjoyed, what music she listened to…anything like that. Obviously, a bit of her personality came through in the writing, but Zoe wanted _everything_. Though, she supposed there was still a lot left to read—most of the diary—she tried to keep her anxiousness at bay.

Realizing then that it was quite late, Zoe reluctantly decided to put the diary away. She knew that staying awake much later would do little for her in Transfiguration the next morning.

However, as she sat up to pull the covers from on top of her and right herself in her bed, something slid out from between the pages of the diary, falling over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

Curious, she lay down on her stomach and bent over the side of the bed to look underneath it. Spotting a small, cream-colored envelope, she reached down and picked it up, entangling herself in the curtains of her bed as she sat up once more. Once she had freed herself, she sat up fully and pulled her still-lit wand from beneath her duvet so that she could see the addressee on the envelope.

_Severus_.

Zoe's eyes widened. It was a letter addressed to her father from her mother. Eagerly, Zoe turned the envelope over and started to pick at the seal with her fingernail, but paused.

No, it wasn't for her. She imagined that if her father found out she'd read something personally addressed to him, he'd be very cross and disappointed. He'd probably give her a lecture about privacy as well and she most certainly didn't want to sit through that.

_He doesn't even know this letter exists. Just read it and figure out how to seal it back later_, the rebellious part of her brain insisted.

_Remember, you have Occlumency lessons. He may see that you hid it from him_, another part said.

_He never pries like that in lessons. He promised he wouldn't. Besides, you could put the memories of the letter in your pensieve. That's what it's for._

In the end, Zoe didn't let the defiant part of her win out. Instead, she placed the small envelope back between the pages of the diary, slid the whole thing under her pillow along with her now-unlit wand, and went to sleep.

* * *

><p>Two days later, having completed her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Zoe approached her father's desk at the front of the room, waiting to address him until everyone had left the classroom.<p>

He was shuffling about parchments on his desk and Zoe knew that he was probably still harboring some frustration from the lesson he'd just taught—half the Slytherin students hadn't turned in their assignments and it had been clear with only a few questions that most hadn't done the reading. Lottie and Zoe had been the only pupils to offer up answers.

"You'll be late for your next class," he observed, glancing to her and breaking his focus for only a moment. "Despite that, I don't wish to rush you along, but I have only an hour to compose a quiz I've just decided my fourth years are going to sit today."

"It's all right. I won't take long," Zoe said, pulling the envelope from her rucksack as her father paused to look at her curiously. "This was in Mum's diary."

Slowly, Zoe set the envelope onto the desktop in front of him. He saw his name written there and quickly looked up directly into Zoe's eyes.

"I didn't read it," she said quickly.

Her father wrinkled his brow as he picked up the envelope as if weighing it. He turned it over once, but seeing that there was nothing on the sealed side, he turned it back to look at his name. After a moment, he addressed Zoe without looking back to her.

"Thank you," he said, his voice rather soft. "Off you go."

Zoe remained where she was, suddenly feeling concerned. She had expected… well, she didn't know what kind of reaction she had expected from her father, but this one was rather odd. It's as if he was stunned or…confused. It was as if he, himself, didn't know how to react.

"Papa?"

He looked back to her. "You'll be late," he reiterated quietly, kindly.

Zoe nodded then and walked away, leaving her father to his thoughts.

* * *

><p>A letter?<p>

Elizabeth had written him a letter? Though, he had to concede that it was probably the only way she thought she'd be able to contact him after their parting—if she'd been able to track down his address that is—it was still not something he had expected. Honestly, he never anticipated he'd ever converse with her again, even so much as a one-sided conversation written twelve years after the exchange had initially taken place.

He remembered that she'd been aghast when he'd informed her rather early on in their relationship that he was not in possession of nor actually owned a mobile telephone. When she'd asked how she was expected to contact him, he had simply pushed the idea of establishing their next…meeting… right then. And so they had, deciding on a time to take place a few days later—a dinner date, as it was. It was a system that had worked out quite well for a time.

Or so Severus had thought. After all, Elizabeth's inability to stay in touch easily with him had been a cause of contention—even resentment and distrust—between them that he'd been unable to explain sufficiently to her. She'd felt he was hiding something.

This was fair, for he had been.

To this day, he believed that and other indications of his perceived emotional distance (grief and guilt from the war as well as a generally distrustful and proud disposition) had been a leading factor in the dissolution of their liaison. At the time, he supposed he had just chalked it up to the hazards of a wizard/Muggle relationship. After all, the Statute of Secrecy was quite clear: "a witch or wizard may not reveal their abilities to their Muggle significant other until such a time that they are married and the union sufficiently and legally consummated". He couldn't have told her anything even if he'd wanted to.

And, considering the reasoning for Severus's withdrawal from the wizarding world—peace and quiet, away from those that would pry—he hadn't wished to risk alerting the Ministry to any sort of breach of the law, no matter how petty such a law may have seemed.

All that thought, Severus was curious as to what Elizabeth had wished to convey to him in this letter, which sat before him, still unopened.

In that moment, when he needed to focus on his work and the twenty students who would enter his classroom in a little over half an hour, he chose to open the middle drawer of his desk and place the letter inside for another time when he could adequately allot attention to it without any sort of expected interruption—and perhaps at a time when he had two fingers of Firewhiskey in a tumbler in his hand.

* * *

><p>Zoe had rushed quickly through her homework that evening and, with a few hours left before she typically went to bed, she settled herself down in a chair near the fire in the Slytherin common room with the books James had recommended to her in her lap.<p>

The first that she opened was _Heroes of the Second Great Wizarding War of the 20__th__ Century_, written by a pudgy, jovial-looking wizard named Podric Pondswater. Reading the information inside the back cover, Zoe was rather disheartened to discover that he was merely a researcher, stating plainly that he did not know the heroes listed within the tome personally, but had merely gathered the information by interviewing acquaintances and reading through first-hand accounts of various battles.

Indeterred, Zoe flipped to the index. Many of the names there she didn't recognize, but Dumbledore, Lupin, Longbottom, McGonagall, and Potter all stuck out to her. It wasn't until she'd turned to the final page of the index that the name she'd been looking for popped out at her: Snape.

Her father appeared to be mentioned on only two pages, which surprised her, for James had always alluded that her father had played a large role in the Second Great Wizarding War. Even her father had said his role had been "rather significant". Surely that warranted more than two pages?

Nevertheless, she turned to the first page indicated in the index. It was a single page, his "profile", and after reading the meager paragraph about his "potions prowess being unmatched" (she already knew that), "his service being essential to the fight against the Dark" (she'd already figured as much), and a sentence which said nothing more than "Severus Snape aided Harry Potter in the downfall of the Dark Lord" (that was highly uninformative, really), Zoe became even more confused.

A quick scan of various other profiles in the book showed much more background information on the individual heroes than what her father's profile conveyed. Professors Lupin and Longbottom had pages and pages that included detailed summaries of specific battles in which they had participated and even personal histories of their lives prior to the war. Zoe learned quite a bit about the war overall from reading through these, but it wasn't giving her much of a scope as to the extent of her father's involvement.

She went back to her father's profile. There wasn't even a photograph of him as there was with every other hero listed in the book. Was Podric Pondswater not able to obtain one? And if not so, why was that?

Zoe turned back to the index again. Her father was mentioned on page 117 as well, so she turned there only to discover that it placed her smack in the middle of the profile for Harry Potter. But, again, the information was meager. In fact, her father was just that: mentioned, and nothing more.

_With the help of Hogwarts Headmaster, Severus Snape, Harry Potter—The Chose One—deftly defeated the wizard known as Lord Voldemort._

Then the profile continued on, talking of specific battles in which Mr. Potter had fought and talking about his career post Hogwarts and Dark Lord defeat.

Zoe wrinkled her brow. Hadn't James said these books would give her information? There wasn't anything here that she hadn't gleaned already. And, frankly, the specific information regarding her father was woefully lacking. Podric Pondswater had clearly learned nothing about Severus Snape—his entry in the book seemed to be little more than an afterthought.

Disappointed, but resolute, Zoe picked up _The Voldemort Years_ and flipped to the index there. A feeling of relief overcame her as she saw that it contained several pages that mentioned her father. Twelve, in fact. She flipped to the first page indicated: 22.

_Despite considerable pushback and advisement from the Hogwarts Board of Directors against it, Dumbledore nonetheless followed through with the appointment of the young Severus Snape in 1981 as Potions Master._

Well, there was something… But, wait… '_Considerable pushback and advisement against…the appointment'_? Why would the Board of Governor's advise against her father being Potions Master? He was a brilliant potioneer, probably even then… Wouldn't they want someone in the position who knew what they were doing?

Zoe flipped to the page before and scanned it. It was only information about how Dumbledore managed the school as Headmaster, but nothing about why the Board would have advised against her father's appointment so long ago.

She was just about to flip back to the index when movement caught her eye and she looked up to find Cecilia Aaron and Evangeline Selwyn hovering next to her.

"Doing some research, Snapeling?" Evangeline asked and, despite the nickname, the question was surprisingly non-aggressive.

"Don't call me that, please," Zoe said in response as she watched Cecilia pick up the _Heroes_ book and scoff after reading the cover.

"What's all this? Reading up on Daddy?" she asked, but unlike Evangeline, she sneered.

"What's it to you?" Zoe shot back, leaning forward to snatch the library book from Cecilia.

Cecilia shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. But all these books are rubbish."

"Are not," Zoe defended lamely, despite actually agreeing with the sentiment. At least with what she'd read so far…

"Now I'm curious," Evangeline said. Again, there was no bite to her tone. She seemed inquisitive, in fact. "Why would you be reading all these? These are pretty amateur level books about the war. You'd know all this already."

Zoe looked down and she could feel her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. The other two girls responded in exactly the way that she hoped they wouldn't. When she glanced up, Cecilia's face was in a weird sort of satisfied smirk, but Evangeline's seemed genuinely shocked.

"You _don't_ know about this stuff? Do you know _anything_ about the war?" Evangeline asked.

"A little," Zoe grumbled.

"Well, everyone knows you're not going to find anything good in these kinds of books," Cecilia said haughtily.

"She's kind of right," Evangeline agreed. "You need the history books on the back shelf of the section. That's where the real meat is."

"I don't think first years are allowed access to those," Zoe explained meekly.

Evangeline shrugged. "I suppose not, but still, that's where you're going to get your information about the real goings-on of the war. These books convey it all through rose-tinted glasses, if you ask me."

"Well, in any case," Cecilia cut in then, "if you want to know more about your dad's Death Eater days, you should just ask an older student to—"

Without knowing what got into her, Zoe was on her feet in an instant, her wand pointing directly at Cecilia's face.

"Take it back," she demanded.

"Take what back?" Cecilia asked, her hands in the air to show she wasn't armed.

"What you said about my father."

Cecilia looked frightened then confused for a moment before her eyes refocused on Zoe. A malicious smile enveloped her features.

"About Snape being a Death Eater? I can't take it back, it's true."

Zoe thrust her wand forward then and took a step toward Cecilia, damning the consequences she knew awaited her should her father or any other teacher find out about this. But she couldn't just let such a baseless, horrible accusation slide.

Cecilia countered with a step back. Zoe was barely conscious of the fact that a small crowd had gathered around them as Evangeline stepped between the two first years.

"Wait," she said. "Are you telling me you didn't know?"

When Zoe looked into the older girl's eyes, she saw pity there.

"Snape was a Death Eater," Evangeline continued calmly. "Cecilia is telling the truth. Everyone knows that he was. You could look it up yourself, just not in those particular books."

Angry, hot tears were pooling in Zoe's eyes and, again, she stepped toward Cecilia again.

"Take it back!" she shouted, her voice wavering. "It's a lie!"

"No," Cecilia said succinctly, that malevolent gleam still in her eye.

Zoe thrust forward again but, this time, Evangeline put a hand on her wand arm.

"You don't have to take her word for it. Or mine," the fifth year said lowly. "You can just look for his Mark, it'd still there."

Zoe, her eyes cloudy with tears, looked to Evangeline. "His what?"

Evangeline's eyes widened as Cecilia's rolled in annoyance. The students around them began to murmur.

"His Dark Mark," Evangeline explained. "The Mark the Dark Lord used to identify and call his followers. It'd still be there. All the former Death Eaters have it still, it's just really faded, but it's there on their left forearms—a skull and a snake." Evangeline patted her own left forearm to convey to Zoe where.

Zoe lowered her wand and stood completely still, trying to remember if she'd ever seen something strange on her father's arms, but nothing came to her. She closed her eyes, doing her best to will some memory of such an image into the forefront of her mind. But it wasn't there; she had absolutely no memory of any kind of marking on her father's arms. One simply didn't exist.

Without a word, Zoe turned away from the two girls and pushed through the crowd toward the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

As if in a daze, she wandered the halls of Hogwarts heading for the location her father had told her he'd be that evening. She clearly recalled the memory from just an hour or two previously when she'd stepped into his office briefly following dinner to ask him to look over her Transfiguration essay which was due in less than a week. He'd told her he'd look it over during his free period the following day due to his needing to go to a mandatory staff meeting.

That exchange between them suddenly seemed very distant…

"Ah, Zoe. Is there something you need?" Professor Lupin's kind voice asked as Zoe entered the staff lounge uninvited and without knocking, interrupting the meeting that had been taking place.

Zoe ignored him as she quickly scanned the room of her professors, all of whose eyes were on her, their expressions curious. She ignored them all as her gaze settled upon the one she sought.

Seated in a cushioned chair between Professors Goode and Sinistra on the other side of the room was her father.

His eyebrows were knitted together in what most would consider confusion—just like everyone else—but Zoe knew the expression was not confused. It was the expression his face took on when he was trying to solve a puzzle in his mind. He knew something was wrong.

Zoe approached him and without preamble, began to rip furiously at the left sleeve of his robes. Tears were streaming from her eyes and her teeth were bared as she pulled as hard as she could, popping the buttons of the cuff clean off and pushing the black fabric up her father's arm harshly, as far as she could get it to go.

Surprisingly, he didn't attempt to stop her, but she could feel his eyes boring into her face as she set her sights on the cuff of the white shirt beneath his robes.

When she'd managed to expose the alabaster skin beneath, she held her father's wrist and turned his arm in several directions, trying to get different angles of light on it so as to see the Mark that had been described to her.

But there was nothing there.

It was at that moment that she became acutely aware of the eyes of her professors on her. Growling in frustration and embarrassment, she held her father's arm up higher, pulling it closer to her face. With her free hand, she reached out to touch his forearm—perhaps she'd be able to feel the Mark somehow.

A hand snapped up, however, and caught her wrist before she could do so.

Zoe looked down into the black eyes of her father. They stared at each other for several moments before something in Zoe's eyes or expression made him concede. Slowly, he let go of her wrist, allowing Zoe to touch his skin.

When she did, she instantly reeled back, her fingers shocked as if by electricity.

And then she saw it.

What appeared to be a faded, black tattoo bearing the likeness of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth formed on his forearm before her very eyes. It was a hideous emblem, to say the least—scary and sickening.

Taking a step back, Zoe looked to her father, willing him to explain, not understanding any of it. She couldn't believe it… But there the Mark was; there was no denying it. He was a… She couldn't even fathom any of this.

She shook her head furiously, taking another step back, as her tears seemed to flood from her eyes. Her father stood from his chair then and, as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, she pulled away from him.

"Don't touch me," she said angrily.

"Zoe," he said softly. Undeterred by her rage, he reached for her again.

"I said, _don't_ touch me, _Death Eater_!" Zoe screamed at him. She ran from the room.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Ahhh! Cliffie... I know. I'm AWFUL! Sorry. But... tell me how terrible I am (or great?) with a review! I'd appreciate it mucho.<em>**


	34. The Consequences of Distrust

_**Hello! This one's a bit shorter than previous chapters (which means it's a normal length for once), but it's pretty angst-ridden, so I feel that I'm preserving your emotional energy a bit by having it be a bit shorter. ;)**_

_**I hope you enjoy it!**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Consequences of Distrust<strong>

Severus had been standing in his dark office for quite some time; he didn't know how long. Though his eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness of the room, he saw nothing, acknowledged nothing—nothing but his own misery and self-loathing.

He'd encountered no one during his trek from the staffroom. Of course, it was easy enough to imagine that word of what had transpired within had spread to the inhabitants of Hogwarts like wildfire. These sorts of things always did. And, as such, the students were most likely making the wise decision to avoid their Defense professor's path that evening.

Before he'd stalked out, Minerva had tried, unsuccessfully, to placate him. "She's confused. She just doesn't understand," she had said quietly very near to him as he'd stood in the middle of the staffroom, rooted to the spot by some unconscious, unidentifiable force, as he was now. Currently, he was alone—thank Merlin—but there he'd been surrounded by nearly every teacher in the school, all of them gawping at him, unable or unwilling to speak about the very real and private moment that had taken place between he and his daughter, utterly flabbergasted by what they had witnessed.

No doubt, they had all already formed opinions on the matter, once again painting him a villain… or, at the very least, disapproving of the secrecy he'd exercised with his own child.

Disregarding the tenseness of the situation, Lupin had gone after Zoe, but had returned only a minute or two later, shaking his head. Severus could see the pity in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I couldn't catch her. I would have tried to explain—"

"Oh, don't concern yourself, Lupin," Severus had snapped, cutting the man off. He rounded on Minerva. "And _you_. I suppose you've found your opportunity to say 'I told you so'?"

"I wouldn't," Minerva had said calmly, her face lined with stress. "I may not have agreed, but I've always understood your reasons for not telling her."

Severus had let out a guttural growl then and strode out of the meeting. It could continue on without him. Or not. He hardly cared.

The longer he stood in his office, however, replaying the whole scene in his mind—from the time he'd noticed Zoe's entrance until she'd bolted, her eyes fearful—the deeper he fell into his brooding.

_Death_ _Eater_, she'd called him.

_Death_ _Eater_.

He knew that moment would echo in his mind forever. He'd see the betrayal and hurt in her eyes; he'd see the distress and alarm.

And intermingled with all those images would be that godforsaken Mark…

Zoe had seen his Dark Mark for the first time; it was substantially faded these days, but still visible against his pale skin. Thinking back, he could see vividly how she'd clawed at his sleeve in desperation, _needing_ to know the truth, her face fierce and focused despite the trace of tears on her cheeks.

And he'd let her rip the shirt back, let her reach out and touch his arm for he'd known this day would come. He'd known it all along, since the first moment that he'd held her in his arms and realized that he loved her more than anything in the world. He'd known. So he'd let her find what she sought, let her discover for herself precisely what kind of a man he had been.

Eventually, Severus's legs began to move and he allowed them to take him up to his quarters where he removed his outer robes and collapsed onto the sofa. It wasn't long before the chill of the castle seeped into his bones, but a wave of his hand remedied that, his wandless abilities unburdening his apathetic limbs with the weight of his wand.

Not long after that, it was apparent to Severus that this motionless ruminating would not suit him in his current state of mind. He needed to move.

He stood and began to pace in front of the fire. But the movement only seemed to replace his sullen mood with anger—anger at the situation, with himself. He should have told her long ago. He should have explained everything about his past before she'd started at this infernal school. He should have told her when she started asking questions...

So many missed opportunities, so many controlled scenarios that he'd overlooked…

No, he'd ignored them. He'd recognized the occasions when they had arisen and he'd _chosen_ to put the conversation off every time. He'd allowed his fear of her reaction to supersede his judgment, done the exact thing he was trying to teach his daughter _not_ to do in her Occlumency lessons. On top of everything else, what a horrible example he'd been setting.

The anger boiled up then and Severus wanted nothing more than to destroy something.

He strode to the dining area between the sofa and his desk and made quick work of the books and scrolls stacked upon the table there. He hadn't even needed to use magic; two swipes of his arms had them falling to the floor with a satisfying crash. The various candlesticks that stood in the middle of the table were next. Grabbing them up one by one, he threw them as hard as he could at the stone, tapestried wall, sparing little relief for the fact that the candles had been unlit. After overturning the large oak table with an angry roar, he paused, breathing heavily.

Feeling somewhat less enraged, he strode back to the hearth and began pacing again.

How could he have been so stupid? It had always only been a matter of time; he'd _known_ she would find out here. It was the very reason he had arranged for her enrollment at Beauxbatons. And, though a voice at the back of his mind told him that that had always been a lost battle—sending her anywhere but Hogwarts—a part of him was cursing her ever having received her letter. When an even stronger voice said he should have been truthful with Zoe from the beginning, the clear glass shades of the oil lamps upon the hearth and on his desk began to crack audibly.

He took several deep breaths to calm his spiraling magic. There was no sense in allowing his self-disgust to lead to the destruction of his living quarters.

Falling onto the sofa once more to stare into the flames and brood, a bit of color caught his eye. Severus averted his full gaze from the fire and settled it onto the stones of the fireplace. Scattered amongst the old, grey-red stones were splashes of green and soft pink and dark blue. They were the stones Zoe had practiced her Color-Change Charm on just a few days previous. It was a wonder and truly a testament to her above-average abilities in Charms that the color had not yet faded.

The sight of them made Severus want to collapse in despair, so he looked away.

His eyes then fell upon the photograph on the hearth—the only one he kept there—the one of Zoe as a baby asleep upon his chest, captured when Minerva had barged into his house the Sunday after Zoe had come to him. The Sunday after Severus had learned of Elizabeth's premature death. The day his world had completely changed.

The image could have pushed him further into despair if not for the fact that it was then that he remembered the letter. Elizabeth's letter.

Rising, he made his way out of his quarters, through his office, and into the Defense classroom. He wasted no time crossing to his desk, opening the front drawer where the letter Zoe had handed him still rested. He lifted the letter and stared at his own name on the outside of the envelope.

Severus hesitated, just as wary of reading it now as he had been when Zoe had first given it to him. He wanted to convince himself that he'd only left it in his desk by mistake, that he'd forgotten about it. But that just wasn't the truth. He'd been avoiding reading it, just as he'd avoided telling his daughter the truth of his nefarious past.

What a coward he'd been.

But no more.

Returning to the sofa in his quarters, he broke the seal and pulled two sheets of heavy, cream-colored stationery paper from within.

He paused only long enough to take a deep breath before plunging into the neat handwriting on the page.

_18 July 2005_

_Severus_,

_If you are reading this, then I have managed to find your whereabouts which means, of course, that our brief relationship was not, in fact, a figment of my imagination. These days, it seems hard to believe that you were real… There's no record of a Severus Snape living in London. I've checked. There's no record of a Severus Snape living anywhere in Britain... But I have not lost hope._

_I am writing out of desperation in the hopes that I can find you and somehow explain these past several months to you. I know we did not part on the best of terms—we both let our tempers get the best of us—but I want to put whatever fissures we had behind us. I have hope that we could talk through whatever it was that ended it all and become friends, at the very least. It all seems so silly now, as these things always do in hindsight._

_You're a complicated man, Severus. You may even be a damaged man in some way or another. I know that now. I suppose I knew it all along and I shouldn't have pushed so hard for you to be open with me. I can see that there was so much that pained you and, although I desperately wanted to unlock that side of you, I should have given you space, trusted that you would reveal it in your own time. I should have given you the opportunity to keep it to yourself, if that's what you wanted. The problems of your past, after all, are your business. I have no right to them. I was selfish in that regard and I'm truly, truly sorry. I suppose I was just self-conscious, so worried that it had something to do with me. I doubted even at the time that it did but sometimes we let our insecurities and emotions rule us and we make horrible decisions, imprinting our fears onto those we care about. I wasn't thinking rationally (and I know how much you need rationality) when I insisted that you open up to me, when I gave you that ultimatum. I shouldn't have made you choose between me or solitude, for we seemed to be healing each other. We seemed to fit each other. I just became a bit impatient with that process…_

_I buggered it all. I was too desperate to know you, to connect with you on a deeper level. I should have allowed it to play out organically._

_I know that I must have seemed weak. Call it a character flaw. Call it a side effect of a string of horrible past relationships that culminated in my trying to mold more out of the first real connection I'd had in years. Either way, it wasn't what you needed and I should have been better for you. I really feel that we could have grown to love each other. The affection was there I think, the spark; we both felt the magic I told you about that night I made you spaghetti bolognese. I felt it time and time again when we were together and… I know you felt it as strongly as I did. You had to have because, well… _

_We're having a baby, Severus. And from what the doctor tells me, it's a healthy, active baby girl. I can only hope that she was conceived of two people who held affection for one another. At the very least, I hope she was conceived of two people who respected each other as best they could, two people who will put their past differences aside in order to raise her with love, in whatever capacity we can work out._

_I want our daughter to know her father, Severus. I want her to know YOU. I want her to grow up with you, to learn from you. I wouldn't even mind if she picked up that wit of yours—even if it makes me want to pull my hair out sometimes. I want to see her make you smile (because I know you're more than capable of it) and I want to see you make her giggle, to see her eyes light up when you walk through the door._

_Please, Severus, if this letter finds you, come to me. Come meet your daughter._

_Affectionately yours,_

_Elizabeth_

Severus allowed the arm holding the letter to drop to his leg. He closed his eyes as the emotions took hold.

So, she _had_ tried to find him. It was easy enough to explain how difficult that would have been for her, especially knowing that she'd have had no knowledge of where he resided. She had probably assumed that he lived in London somewhere and been wholly perplexed when his name hadn't been in any directories.

The Ministry of Magic was also notorious for expunging any documentation that may direct curious Muggles to people in the wizarding world. Severus had been born in a Muggle hospital with the aid of a Muggle midwife, grown up in a Muggle community, but there'd be no record of it in the Muggle world by now. The Ministry would have seen to that the moment it was clear that Severus would dedicate himself to wizardry, which was typically assumed with the first documentation of magical abilities in toddlerhood and later confirmed with enrollment at Hogwarts. Even the house in Spinner's End was registered with a Muggle name—his paternal grandmother's. It would have taken a considerable amount of time and effort for Elizabeth to somehow track his surname to Cokeworth and miraculously link Severus genealogically to Lavinia Wallis.

In essence, he should have sought her out all those years ago. He should have realized that she'd never have the capabilities or political connections to find him if she'd desired.

Why hadn't he checked in on her? Pride, most likely. Or perhaps his own insecurities had kept him away. He was sure he'd grappled with that in the aftermath of their relationship—wondered how a woman like that would ever find lasting affection for a man like him…

That must have been it, then: doubt.

Sighing heavily, Severus reached for the envelope beside him in order to return the letter but his hand paused above it as something else inside caught his eye.

Wrinkling his brow, he took hold of the edge of the thick, smooth material and pulled it out, holding it up in front of his face for several moments until he recognized what it was.

It had been decades since he'd seen one, and this one was quite a bit more technologically advanced, but there was no denying that it was an ultrasound photograph. The three dimensionality of the image made it increasingly obvious as well that the image was Zoe. Her mother's nose and his long fingers were prominently displayed in the left quadrant of the image and typed at the bottom were the words, _Baby Girl Agnew_.

Severus stared at it for less than a minute before he was overwhelmed. Completely breaking down, he let years of repressed tears flow freely. He grieved for Elizabeth, for the life she was missing with their daughter. For the life Zoe was missing with her mother.

But mostly, he grieved for his relationship with Zoe. It seemed completely lost and irreparable now. After all, how could a kind, loving, intelligent child ever see past the vile, immoral acts of a Death Eater? How could he ever gain back her trust?

* * *

><p>After leaving the staffroom, Zoe hadn't gone back to the Slytherin common room. She didn't think she could face the looks of pity from her more compassionate classmates or the look or air of smugness Cecelia was likely to convey the moment Zoe walked in. She didn't want to experience that. Not tonight. There was just too much to take in already.<p>

Therefore, she made her way to the solitude of the Astronomy Tower, hopeful that a class was not going on and she could sit there alone.

She got lucky. The Tower was vacant and dark when she entered, though a few sconces around the ramparts lit upon her entrance, giving her just enough light to cross to the other side and collapse into a chair that was turned to look out on the lake.

Zoe cried, wept for the life she thought she'd known, for the man she had once thought the world of and now…she didn't know what to think of him.

_How_ could he be a Death Eater? How could he align himself with killers and torturers and Muggle-haters? How could he be everything that Zoe knew to be evil and wrong?

And how had she not seen it before? How could she have not connected the vast number of Dark tomes that graced the shelves of Spinner's End with her father's obviously Dark past? How was it that she had never seen the Dark Mark before? Evangeline had said it had been there all along, yet Zoe had not once set eyes upon it until that moment in the staffroom.

"Zoe? Are you up here?"

Surprised that someone had found her, she turned quickly to look around the edge of the wing-backed chair and toward the entrance.

James stood there looking apprehensive.

"Leave me alone," Zoe said lowly, turning back to look at the lake.

James didn't heed her request. Instead, he came forward and leaned against the wall in front of her. Zoe noticed that he was already dressed in pajama bottoms and a plain t-shirt—probably his bedclothes.

"I just heard… you know… that you found out about your dad."

Zoe glanced briefly to the black-haired boy, but didn't say anything.

"Are you all right?" he asked then.

"No," Zoe said simply.

"Okay… Er, do you want to talk or something?"

"No."

The two were silent.

"It'll be curfew soon…" James observed after several minutes had passed.

"I don't care," Zoe responded, truly indifferent to the time or the consequences of being caught out after curfew. She didn't even know how long she'd been sitting and crying. For all she knew, James's idea of 'soon' could have been in five minutes or it could have been in an hour.

"I didn't bring the Map to get us back, so—"

"You can go if you think you'll get detention. I didn't ask you to come here."

James's eyes widened. "Zoe, I just meant—"

Zoe raised her head and looked at James with angry, betrayed eyes. "You knew this whole time, didn't you? You knew he was a Death Eater."

James stared at her for several moments but, eventually, he let out a breath of air, resigned. "Yeah, I did," he said. "I've known for as long as I can remember. I've heard stories about Snape my whole life. But Zoe—"

"I can't believe you never told me," Zoe snapped. "I even asked you if you knew anything… those books you gave me… they were rubbish."

"They aren't rubbish," James defended. "They tell the truth just… not all of it, I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

James looked down. "It wasn't my place."

"Why's that? Because your granddad told you it wasn't?" Zoe's voice was accusatory now as she recalled what James had told Louis that morning at breakfast when he'd invited Zoe to sit at the Gryffindor table. She was so angry with him, so frustrated that he hadn't trusted her with such information about her own father that she hardly cared how being awful to him could possibly affect their friendship.

James looked Zoe in the eyes. "No. Because your dad should tell you about all that. I couldn't explain it all even if I tried. All I know is that Snape was a Death Eater but he was also a hero. He helped my dad save our world from Voldemort."

"He can't be both."

"But he was. It's just…complicated."

"Obviously," Zoe sneered, standing. Without another word, she strode toward the entrance and exited the Astronomy Tower.

The rest of that week and the weekend went by in a blur. Zoe didn't change much of her routine. She still went to her classes, to meals, did her homework, but it was as if she was in a perpetual daze, barely cognizant of anything aside from that routine. She didn't spend much time with her friends—or outside her dormitory room, for that matter—she just wanted to stay focused on her studies and try not to think about her father at all.

It wasn't until the following Monday after the staffroom incident that Zoe realized she didn't have the essay that was due for Professor Lupin that morning; she'd left it for her father to look over on Thursday… just before everything changed.

Sighing in resignation, she entered the Transfiguration classroom after breakfast and walked directly to Lupin at his desk to ask if he'd possibly give her an extension. She'd rewrite her essay that very night to catch up.

"Professor, I don't have my essay. I—"

"Not to worry, Zoe," Professor Lupin said kindly, pulling a roll of parchment from a corner of his desk. "Your father handed me this at breakfast. He assured me it was well-written."

"Oh," was all Zoe could manage before she turned and walked to her desk, sliding in beside Lottie.

Before she'd turned away, it had looked as if Professor Lupin had wanted to say more to her. However, the bell had rung just then, saving Zoe from a conversation she simply didn't wish to have.

Tuesday had been much the same, keeping to the routine of school. Lottie had tried to engage Zoe in conversation in both Charms and Herbology, but Zoe hadn't been into it. She hadn't been giving her best friend the cold shoulder, by any means—after all, Lottie hadn't known of her father's past either and was therefore one of the few people in the school Zoe was inclined to trust—but she hadn't been her normal, sociable self around her either.

At lunch that day, Zoe's stomach had roiled with anxiety, knowing what class she'd have to attend in only a few short minutes.

"I doubt it'll be as bad as you imagine," Lottie tried to placate. "I mean, he isn't going to talk to you about being a…you know… during class."

"Probably not," Zoe had conceded.

"I'll be there with you."

Zoe shook her head, which made Lottie wrinkle her brow.

"I won't be?" she asked.

"No," Zoe said, making a decision. "I'm not going."

Lottie opened her mouth, most likely to talk Zoe out of that decision, but she soon closed it. She knew that it would have been futile to try.

Therefore, twenty minutes later, Zoe settled into some reading in a chair in the far corner of the common room, away from the prying eyes and possible questions from older students as to why she wasn't in class. She hadn't read two pages when she heard the main entrance open and a hush fall across the low murmur of conversation that had been in the room.

"Zoe Agnew," a familiar voice resonated within the Slytherin common room causing Zoe to sink down lower into her chair.

Minerva had come to Slytherin House for her and she didn't sound even the slightest bit in a good mood.

"Professor, Zoe Agnew is a first year; she should be in class…" Zoe heard the Head Boy, Lukas Andersen, say near the fireplace.

"I'm well-aware of where she _should_ be, Mr. Andersen, as is she. However, she is not there. I have reason to believe that she is, in fact, in this very common room."

"I can ask a girl to go check her room but—"

"No need, Andersen. I have had confirmation that she is in here. Miss Agnew, you do not wish for me to call you again," Minerva said a bit louder then.

Zoe cringed. This was beyond mortifying to have all these older students seeing this scene play out. Zoe wanted to melt into the upholstery of her chair, but she was well aware that Minerva was quite serious. She didn't want to be in any more trouble with her godmother than she already was.

Sighing heavily, she rose from her chair and came out from her hiding place. She turned to face Minerva.

"I'm here, Professor," she said, just loud enough for her voice to travel across the room.

Minerva turned to look at her, pursing her lips. "Come with me," she commanded as she turned and exited the common room.

Zoe took a deep breath and tried to ignore the stares of her schoolmates as she made her way across the common room floor and out the door.

As soon as she had exited and was out of the sights of those in the common room, Minerva grabbed her wrist, spinning Zoe to stand directly in front of her. The tall witch leaned forward slightly to look Zoe in the eye.

"Just because you are angry with your father does _not_ give you the right to skive off your Defense class," Minerva lectured.

It was then that Zoe noticed James standing there, the Marauder's Map open in his hands. He stared uncomfortably at the two witches in front of him.

Minerva noticed Zoe's gaze and turned to James.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. That will be all. Please make your way straight back to Professor Flitwick's class."

James looked to Zoe briefly. She could see remorse and reluctance in his eyes but she glared at him angrily anyway.

"Yes, Professor," he said quietly and walked away.

Once he had gone, Minerva, still holding Zoe's wrist, began to pull her along out of the dungeons. Zoe could feel her temper rising with each step both from embarrassment and from the events of the week before. Minerva just didn't understand.

"I _don't_ want to see him!" she stated loudly as they moved down a corridor off the Entrance Hall. She pulled her arm away from the Headmistress's grasp.

It was apparent that Minerva had quite a bit less patience for Zoe's histrionics—or perhaps just less experience—than Zoe's father did for she halted at the first tug and clamped her hands around Zoe's upper arms instead, looking Zoe right in the eye.

"You listen to me. Your father has done more for the wizarding world than you can possibly imagine. He is not what you believe him to be. I will agree that he made a mistake in not telling you his history himself—he knows this as well—but nothing, _nothing_, gives you the right to shun him and be disrespectful. Do you hear me? This has gone on long enough. He paid his penance for his wrongdoing long before you were ever even born. You have no right to judge him or condemn him now and you have absolutely no right to play a victim. Now, you're going to class."

Zoe was beyond angry with her godmother at this point. Who was she to say that she shouldn't be angry with her father? She _was_ a victim—a victim of her father's lies. She was a victim of his unwarranted distrust.

"No, I'm _not_," she stated boldly, succeeding in pulling away from the irate Headmistress again.

She instantly turned on her heel to head in the opposite direction.

"Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth, come back here this instant!"

Zoe ignored the shout behind her, but barely got any farther when, suddenly, a spell took hold of her, making her unable to walk at a normal pace, much less the quick stride she had been using a moment before. She struggled with all her might against it, but her effort was futile. A moment later, Minerva was standing before her, her arms crossed over her chest and with the scariest, most livid expression Zoe had ever seen on her godmother's face. It made Zoe stop struggling instantly.

"You, my dear, are walking on very thin ice with me," Minerva said dangerously. "I am an old woman and I refuse to chase after you. Therefore, the insolence will cease now or we'll find a private place along our way to sort out your attitude."

Zoe didn't like the sound of that. Minerva could lecture and verbally reprimand with the best of them. Not that Zoe had experienced her rebukes often. However, she had an inkling that any detour they took between here and the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom wouldn't bode well for her.

Zoe looked to the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked softly of her godmother.

Minerva was quiet for several moments before she spoke. "I thought you should have been told years ago, but it was not my story to tell."

"You _know_ he was wrong not to tell me... You know what he is. He has the Mark."

"I know what he _was_. He is not a Death Eater anymore, despite the Mark."

When Zoe continued to stand still and quiet, refraining from struggling with the spell, Minerva released her from it with a wave of her wand.

"You're going to class," she said again resolutely turning to continue on their way. "And if your father wishes to keep you after to speak with you, you will stay and listen to what he has to say."

Zoe didn't argue this time, making sure not to give her godmother any indication of defiance as she nodded her head and followed along.

They continued in silence with the only sounds coming from the smart click of the Headmistresses' heels on the flagstones beneath their feet. Zoe barely shuffled along at Minerva's side. She felt as if she was about to embark on the most miserable experience of her life. She didn't want to see her father—the _Death Eater_—any more now than she did before Minerva's biting reprimand of her behavior.

It was too soon, too painful, the sting of betrayal and distrust still so acute in her mind. And, the truth was… Zoe was afraid.

In next to no time, they stopped in front of the door to the Defense classroom. Zoe eyed it warily and looked up at her godmother with pleading eyes.

"Please, Min, don't make me go in there."

Minerva shook her head as she reached for the door handle.

"I told myself many years ago that I would never say this to one of my children to justify an action," she breathed out heavily, seemingly annoyed with herself, "but this is for your own good."

Then she swung the door open and pushed Zoe inside, leaning in to address the man at the front of the classroom.

"Your wayward pupil, Professor."

Then she was gone, leaving Zoe standing at the back of the classroom with every eye in the room trained on her. Nobody spoke for almost a full minute before, finally, her father cleared his throat.

"Take your seat, Miss Agnew," he said with absolutely no inflection in his voice whatsoever.

Zoe moved forward to the middle of the classroom and took up her typical seat next to Glendora. It wasn't until she sat down that she realized she didn't have her book or a quill or anything. That was quickly remedied, however, as black robes suddenly appeared in her line of vision and her father sat parchment, a quill, an inkwell, and what looked to be a used book onto the desk in front of her.

"Page two hundred and eighteen. You're taking notes on simple confusion charms," he said before going back to the front of the classroom and continuing his lecture.

Zoe spent the remainder of the class period being as diligent a notes-taker as she ever was. When the bell finally rang, the students remained in their seats, waiting for the professor to release them. He raised his head up and did a quick glance at the students around the room as he always did before finally speaking.

"Dismissed—"

There was an immediate calamity of moved benches and shuffling parchment.

"—except for Miss Agnew. You will stay behind."

Zoe knew this would be coming—it had been inevitable since Minerva had called her name in the Slytherin common room. But Zoe wasn't going to allow herself to be alone with the professor. She stood when the other students did and hovered next to her desk, looking up at the teacher behind his desk who was gazing at her just as intently.

She was sure to remain cognizant of the movements of students around her, but then she saw it. A glimmer of something like uncertainty in her father's features and she instantly became furious with him once again. She'd been furious with him the whole time, but this time it wasn't a numbing feeling as it had been since the incident. This time, it was right on the surface of her emotions and it wasn't something that was easily tramped down.

Slowly, Zoe took a step backward, toward the door. Her father saw this and stood from his chair. Zoe paused and her father paused. She noticed that the students were emptying out of the classroom much quicker than she would prefer and, in her sudden panic, she took another step back. Her father came around the desk then and Zoe's eyes grew wide. In that instant, she turned on her heel and _ran_, not caring that she bumped several of her classmates out of the way in her haste.

It wasn't until she was nearly a floor below that she realized she hadn't been followed.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thanks for reading! I know I continue to traumatize you all the more the story progresses, but could you possibly leave me a review so I know what you liked or didn't like?<em>**


	35. Estrangement

_**Hello! Oh boy, this chapter has been a tough one to write. So many complex emotions... So much I needed to make sure came across the way I intend...**_

_**Ugh. Writing is hard, you know? ;) But I wouldn't trade it for the world.**_

_**I hope you enjoy it!**_

* * *

><p><strong>Estrangement<strong>

"She's afraid of me."

"She's not. She's afraid of what she thinks you are. And you are _not_ that."

"I was once."

Minerva gave Severus a decidedly disapproving look over her spectacles.

"Not in decades. You're a different man. You turned your back on that life—those philosophies—twenty years before Zoe was even born."

Severus looked away from the Headmistress, settling his gaze on an insignificant trinket on the table beside where he stood near the entrance. She was across her office, sitting at her desk reading and signing various scrolls of parchment—the never-ending paperwork of the Headmistress.

"So, I take it your conversation after class didn't go well?"

"_Lack_ of conversation," Severus corrected.

"Did you at least _try_ to explain?"

Severus wrinkled his brow and looked back to Minerva.

"To an empty classroom?"

Minerva pursed her lips, the truth dawning on her. "She didn't stay." She shook her head. "That girl… she's in trouble with me. I made it clear that she was to stay and hear you out. There is no reason that she should be making you feel this level of shame now. That is your past."

"Do not reprimand her," Severus said quietly. "As I said, she is afraid of me and that fear is entirely understandable. I worry that by forcing an audience with her, I risk frightening her more."

"Don't you dare just give up on this," Minerva snapped then causing Severus to give her an annoyed glare.

"Who is giving up? I'm merely stating that any trauma she's already been through with this…revelation…will only be exacerbated should I not give her sufficient time to try to work her emotions out on her own."

"Her fear of you is irrational and she is a child. As her father, you are supposed to work through these emotions _with_ her."

"Perhaps it's for the best that we remain independent for now."

Minerva rolled her eyes then, clearly annoyed by Severus's answer. She threw a hand into the air. "Oh, what should I have expected? She's a Snape."

Severus frowned. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

Minerva's glare was withering. "It means that I am growing tired of explaining to you the obvious. She is _your_ child. Of course she is acting this way because she is supercilious and unwilling to speak through conflict sensibly. She is hiding behind her pride and shying away from progressive communication. She's perfectly content until it comes to addressing personal faults or matters of emotion, when she retreats into herself for days at a time, becoming melodramatic and nearly impossible to reason with. She's _just_ like her father."

That angered Severus and he slammed a hand down on the table to convey his emotion to the woman across the room.

"What do you propose I do? Bellow 'I'm not a Death Eater' from the ramparts for her and everyone to hear?"

Minerva stood, leaning forward with her palms on the desktop. She narrowed her eyes.

"I propose you take more action than you're currently taking."

"That is not the tactic you suggested weeks ago when I employed Legilimency on her. You thought I should give her time to mull it over herself."

"I was wrong then and you proved that by sequestering the two of you in your potions lab for a weekend. Clearly, Zoe responds better to interaction than inaction, even if it's forced interaction."

"So what, then? Shall I put her in a Full-Body Bind? Perhaps I'll just slip a paralytic into her pumpkin juice and drag her to my quarters? If I know one thing, it's that she will not listen to me unless she is receptive to what I have to say. That cannot be forced."

"Yet, you cannot continue to keep her deliberately naïve!"

"I'm aware of that!"

"Clearly, you're not! Because sticking to the status quo all these years, 'waiting until she was older', that has always been easier for _you_, Severus, not her. That is what has stayed your explanation about your past—_your_ insecurity and _not_ her inability to handle the information."

"I HAVE NOT WANTED MY DAUGHTER TO HATE ME!" Severus roared. "I HAVE NOT WANTED HER TO FEAR ME!"

Minerva's eyes grew wide and she became silent, halting any rebuttal.

Breathing heavily from his outburst, Severus looked down and away from the pity growing in the witch's features, allowing his curtains of hair to cover his face.

"A lot of bloody good any of it was," he said softly then. "I didn't think there would ever be anything I could say that would make her understand." He looked back to Minerva. "My actions are as inexcusable now as they were then. How could I ever make her see…?"

There was silence for several moments before Minerva moved from behind the desk. Seconds later, she was beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think you give her enough credit," she spoke kindly. "But, she has a right to know, no matter the outcome. I know it may not seem like it now, but she loves you. She could never hate you and she's far too cheeky to indicate any sort of fear of you. She just can't fathom this past of yours and she's trying to reconcile it with what she _does_ know of you… Understand, Severus, that there is absolutely no one, save yourself, who could possibly explain it to her. You have to try. She deserves to hear the story from you."

"She clearly doesn't want to hear anything from me."

"She _does_ want to know, despite how she is currently behaving. You can reach her."

"Minerva has a point, Severus. I've always said that hiding from your history only shackles you to it," the portrait of Dumbledore spoke up then causing Severus to grit his teeth in agitation. "We can't undo a single thing we've ever done, but we can make decisions today that propel us to the life we want and towards the healing we need."

"As always, I'll be sure to heed the advice of a portrait," Severus responded lowly, gritting his teeth in agitation. He sent a scowl in Dumbledore's direction.

"Zoe needs to heal from this perceived betrayal," Dumbledore plowed on, ignoring Severus's annoyed demeanor. "What a better way than with her beloved father by her side?"

Severus snorted derisively.

"He isn't wrong," Minerva said. "Though, you may be right that trying to force her to speak with you is unwise at the present. But, perhaps, she could be swayed to speak with you about this after having the right conversations with your colleagues?"

Severus shook his head. "I do not wish to burden others with my family woes."

"Nonsense. Remus, Hagrid, and the others would be more than willing to speak to your heroics and better character. As would I."

Severus sneered in distaste. But what other choice did he have? Without the aid of others speaking of his…nobler qualities, how could he ever bring his daughter to understand his past, to understand the choices he had made as a young wizard?

He left Minerva's office minutes later with his heart still heavy and only a barely noticeable ray of hope in this entire ordeal.

* * *

><p>The next day after classes, Zoe was called to the Headmistress's office. Her feet were heavy as she made the trek up the castle steps for she knew that she was in for quite the scolding from her godmother. Minerva had very little patience for deliberate insubordination, after all, and was always quite cross any time she witnessed Zoe being disrespectful to her father in any way. Zoe had committed both such infractions and she didn't have much confidence that Minerva would see her side of things—not after the way she'd reacted to Zoe skiving class anyway.<p>

"Have a seat," Minerva said once Zoe had knocked and been admitted into the office.

Zoe didn't speak once she was sitting across the desk from her godmother; she merely looked down at her hands, avoiding Minerva's acute gaze.

After several minutes of silence, Zoe mustered up the courage to look up only to wrinkle her brow in confusion. Minerva hadn't been looking at her at all. In fact, the Headmistress was sitting rather oddly in her chair, looking directly above her at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore that resided there. The old wizard, however, was gazing at Zoe quite intently, his blue eyes seeming duller than the last time she had looked into them. He was sitting in his tall-backed chair and appeared to have one leg crossed over the other. The expression on his face was that of resigned empathy, as if he was conflicted on what side of an argument to take.

It appeared as though Minerva was deferring to Dumbledore to begin whatever conversation for which Zoe had been brought here.

"Albus," she said after some time as if to rouse him from his perceived stupor.

"Yes, Minerva, I do see the girl sitting before me. I am merely deciding how best to address the circumstances with her."

Zoe looked down at her hands again.

"I thought you were going to tell me off," she said quietly, looking up at her godmother through her eyelashes.

Minerva turned her head and shot Zoe a severe look.

"Oh, I assure you, I'd be giving you quite the earful by now had your father not asked me to withhold my disapproval."

Zoe wrinkled her nose.

"Why would he do that?"

"He seems to think your behavior over the last few days is justified."

Zoe didn't say anything to that. What was there to say? At least he recognized that he was in the wrong.

"Do not think for a second that I agree with his assessment," Minerva continued. "I find your attitude and actions toward your father shameful, especially considering—"

"Minerva, you forget Severus's request," Dumbledore said then.

Minerva quieted immediately, shaking her head.

"So, you're really angry with me, then," Zoe said rather aggressively.

Minerva's features seemed to soften slightly.

"I am disappointed. I thought you were more levelheaded than this and that you'd be willing to talk through all this rationally."

"He's lied to me my whole life," Zoe stated. "And _everyone_ knew but me. _Everyone_."

"Yes, he did," Minerva conceded. "Or at least a lie by omission. He's aware of this, but he's had his reasons."

"What are his reasons?"

Minerva shook her head. "You are going to have to discuss that with him."

"I don't want to discuss anything with him. Why can't you just tell me?"

"As I said yesterday, it is not my story to tell."

Zoe glared at Minerva, slouching back in her chair. "Well, I'm not speaking to him."

Minerva sighed heavily and looked back up to Dumbledore's portrait, exasperation in her features. Dumbledore, Zoe noticed, now had that amused gleam in his eye. It was one of…fondness. At least, that's what it seemed to be to Zoe.

"Stubborn as a Snape," he said then, causing Zoe to roll her eyes. "They really should market the phrase…oh, how I miss our conversations."

"I've only talked to you once," Zoe said defensively.

"Yes, but I had many a conversation with your father in my day. And you, my dear, remind me so much of him."

"I wish everyone would stop saying that," Zoe grumbled.

That only gave Dumbledore reason to chuckle.

Zoe stood abruptly.

"May I go?" she asked Minerva, trying to mask her frustration so as not to seem too rude.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you," Minerva said calmly.

Zoe glared at her godmother. "He's just a portrait," she exclaimed heatedly.

"Nonetheless, I think he has earned your respect, young lady."

"How?"

"Zoe," Minerva said in a warning voice.

"He didn't tell me that Papa's a Death Eater either," Zoe said indignantly. "He knew. _You_ knew. Nobody said _anything_. You just let me be stupid about it. I _don't_ respect that."

There was silence for several moments as Zoe and Minerva stared at each other, each calculating their next move.

"Please, sit down," Minerva said softly. "I think you'll want to hear what he has to say."

"I don't," Zoe said with gritted teeth. "Please, may I go?"

Minerva sighed again and looked away, rubbing at her forehead with her fingers. She shook her head before locking eyes with Zoe once more.

"I suppose you may, though I wish you'd be reasonable about this. Your father has made a mistake in not telling you, but all of that is his past. He is a good man and an excellent father."

"I think I'm the only one who gets to decide if that's true," Zoe said bitterly.

She turned and quickly left the office.

Once in the corridor at the bottom of the spiral staircase, she slowed her pace, walking lethargically to nowhere in particular. She ignored anyone that passed by, though she would swear they were whispering about her.

"_There she is. Snape's daughter…" _they said. _"He didn't even tell his own kid that he was a Death Eater."_

"_Glad I'm not her right now. How awkward."_

It made Zoe angry and it made her sad. Were all parents like this? Did they all keep such monumental information from their children for…?

She didn't even know what sort of purpose her father had in keeping this from her. Was she really that untrustworthy?

That didn't make any sense because everyone else seemed to know so there was nothing to trust; it was as if her father's status as a Death Eater was the standard historical curriculum for everyone in the wizarding world. Everyone but her, of course. She just felt like she didn't know her father at all.

Perhaps he thought she couldn't handle it? But…she'd lived through a Death Eater _attack_. It had been scary, naturally, but she'd gotten through it. And Zoe had even _asked_ her father what was going on. She'd asked him to his face and he'd said that it was nothing for her to be concerned about. It had all been lies.

Eventually, her feet led her into the darkened trophy room on the third floor. Seeing that it was deserted, she went about closing and locking the double doors on either side of the room. She just wanted to be alone for a while.

Taking a seat on the floor near one of the trophy displays, Zoe pulled her mother's diary from her rucksack. She had taken to carrying it everywhere she went, for she felt that it somehow brought her closer to her mother. And, in the absence of any connection to her father, it was a bit of solace for her.

Zoe opened it up to a random page about two thirds in and began to read.

_Hello, Baby._

_Now that I know you're a girl, I've been giving a lot of thought to names lately. There are many that I adore—Kathryn, Lucy, Evelyn… Or, perhaps Imogen, Annie, or Alice…_

_I adore them as names, but not one of them seems just right for you in my mind. I can't quite envision myself introducing you by those names or calling out to you as you play in the garden._

_Ruby was my grandmother's name, though I'm not necessarily keen on it. My other grandmother was called Hattie Mae. I'm certainly not keen on that one either. I like Cora or Emma or Madeline as well. Though, Emma is quite common nowadays. It makes me inclined to reject it._

_It's times like these when I truly wish your daddy were here. I know he'd probably be a bit acerbic, a bit nonchalant in choosing your name, but at least he could help me to eliminate some of the choices._

_Your father has a very interesting name, Baby. His name is Severus. I have yet to wheedle his middle name out of him, but Severus is a very regal name, I think. I'm assuming he was named for one of the Roman emperors, Septimius Severus or Alexander Severus, though I never thought to ask him the story of his name._

_Anyway, I'm sure he'd have a __very__ strong opinion on what your name __shouldn't__ be, at the very least. I wish he were here. You've started to kick quite a lot and there's nothing more that I want than to see Severus's face when he feels you kick._

_I hope I can find him soon. I want your father to partake in this joy—_

Zoe closed the book with a snap, annoyed. She couldn't even get away from people trying to talk about her father in her mother's twelve-year-old diary.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned the back of her head against the wall, closed her eyes, and tried to practice clearing her mind of thoughts, thankful that she knew how to meditate properly and had at least learned some of the fundamentals of Occlumency. As she pushed away the lingering feelings of anger, annoyance, and betrayal, she also squashed the strange feeling of guilt that kept trying to come to the surface.

She wasn't quite sure why she felt guilty, for a rather loud and seemingly rational part of her brain kept telling her that she had every right to be angry about this whole situation, with her father. Yet, the guilt kept trying to burst through to the most conscious part of her mind nonetheless, as if it was begging her to address it, demanding that she calm down and listen to what everyone was trying to tell her about her father.

"Ah, there you are."

Zoe startled, her eyes opening wide, looking out into the darkened room that was lit only dimly by the displays.

"Who's there?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry if I have frightened you. That was not my intention at all."

Realizing from where the voice was resonating, Zoe pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against and stood, turning to look at the portrait hanging there. Inside the frame that typically held Wilbur Wemby, an old, austere-looking Quidditch instructor, there now resided Professor Dumbledore. He stood in the very center, his hands clasped in front of him, looking down on Zoe with an odd expression Zoe couldn't decipher. He seemed…penitent and somber. He seemed tired.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he said. "Minerva had a notion that you'd avoid high-occupancy areas of the castle after leaving her office, but she wanted to make sure you were all right. She asked that I search places that are not necessarily frequented by students."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It's a free country. I can go where ever I want…at least until curfew."

Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly, patiently. "It is indeed. And you can within certain bounds; that is true."

"I wasn't going to go to the Forbidden Forest or anything, if that's what she thought," she said, her tone antagonistic.

"Of course not."

Zoe narrowed her eyes at the old headmaster. He was being unnervingly calm. She didn't trust it.

"What do you want?" she finally asked after a few moments.

Dumbledore merely stared at her for several seconds before taking a seat on the grass painted into the portrait. He crossed his legs like a child, resting his hands upon his knees. Zoe sat down on the floor as well, looking up at the portrait.

"I wonder, perhaps, if you might tell me what your father is like at home."

Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"Why?"

"I am merely curious as to the state of your home life. Severus never struck anyone as the child-rearing type, though I always suspected that he'd make an excellent father. He's very principled, you see, very idealistic in his own way, and he has an incredible capacity for love. It gives me great pride to see him take on the task and raise such an astute, well-adjusted, likable and lovely daughter—despite her tendency toward disrespectful asides and holding grudges, of course."

Zoe didn't say anything; she merely shrugged.

"Are you well-cared for?" Dumbledore asked then. "Does Severus see to your emotional well-being as well as your physical and mental autonomy? Does he try to address your woes? Does he build you up when you succeed or, instead, does he belittle you when you do wrong? Does he allow you your favorite dessert from time to time? Do you think he is a good father?"

"Why do you want to know?" She was feeling a bit uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking and she wasn't entirely sure what it had to do with anything.

"I wish to ascertain if there are any underlying feelings that may be contributing to your current antipathy toward him."

Zoe looked away from the portrait. "He's fine, I guess," she said begrudgingly. Although she was angry with her father and had every right to distance herself from him, she didn't want anyone thinking he was in any way neglectful or emotionally abusive. That would just be crossing the line, allowing them to operate on malicious and untruthful assumptions.

"I see."

"What do you see?" Zoe asked, looking back up.

Dumbledore raised his chin. "I see a young girl who has been hurt by the one person she loves the very most, but she is ill-equipped to process the complexity of the emotions she is feeling. I see a child who is exceptionally angry, but not so angry as to give anyone the wrong impression of her home life. I think you want to understand your father's past and rekindle your relationship with him. I can help you, if you'll allow me."

Again, Zoe looked away.

"He lied," she said, tears starting to well in her eyes.

"He spent many years lying for the greater good, lying to protect others. It is, perhaps, a habit that is hard to combat."

"'Lying for the greater good'? What does that mean?"

"Your father put himself in mortal danger regularly to play his role—including lying quite boldly and convincingly to Voldemort himself. But he did it for the wizarding world, so that evil could be defeated once and for all."

Zoe gave Dumbledore an annoyed look. "He _hates_ it when I lie to him. I have to do chores in the conservatory when I do."

Dumbledore nodded. "So, it is his hypocrisy that is bothering you? And…excommunicating yourself from him is his punishment?"

Zoe frowned. "He's a Dark wizard. _That's_ what's bothering me."

"Why do you think that he is?"

"He has the Dark Mark—the Death Eater mark. Death Eaters are Dark wizards. They killed Persephone Winston's uncle and they want everyone to be a pureblood."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Appearances are not always reminiscent of the absolute truth. We perceive many nuances through our eyes, but it is our experiences, our combined interactions with others, that most completely convey the true nature of a person."

"Do you always talk like that?"

For the first time since she'd met him, Dumbledore looked bemused. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're not being very…specific. You said you wanted to help me to understand, but you're not really telling me anything."

Dumbledore seemed to weigh that assessment for a few moments. Eventually, he conceded with a nod of his head. "I apologize. I am imbued with the personality of Dumbledore and much of his memory, but I am not he. Unfortunately, I do not have much in the way or greater reasoning abilities. I merely wish to convey to you that the mark on your father's arm is hardly a satisfactory way of judging his underlying character. Severus is no more a Dark wizard than I am."

"How should I know if you're a Dark wizard? I don't really know anything about you," Zoe responded.

"Ah. You have neglected your reading, it would seem. Though, it was my understanding that young Mr. Potter had directed you toward a number of very informative and entertaining tomes on the subject."

"I— I haven't read them all yet," Zoe confessed.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Then, for the sake of analogy, it may be better to say that your father is no more a Dark wizard than Minerva is a Dark witch."

Zoe nodded slowly and stood then. "Is that all?"

Now Dumbledore looked gobsmacked. "No. I had hoped to give you some perspective on the war and your father's role in it."

Zoe nodded again as she moved toward the door. "I know," she said. "But why should I take your word for anything?"

As she exited the trophy room, she heard Portrait Dumbledore mutter once more: "Stubborn as a Snape."

* * *

><p>Several days passed by and the whispering amongst her peers continued on while Zoe's anger and sense of betrayal towards her father simply wouldn't cease. At times, it seemed to overwhelm her no matter how much she tried to lock it down deep inside her.<p>

Lottie always noticed and tried to console Zoe as best she could. Zoe felt bad for Lottie as she sat beside her on her bed while Zoe cried and raged after Persimmon Welch had made a snide remark in the common room about how _her_ father never kept secrets from her. She, Abigail, and Cecilia had shot malicious glances toward Zoe before erupting into peals of laughter.

She'd wanted nothing more than to hex the lot of them, but she knew that doing such a thing would only have landed her a one-way ticket the office of the Head of Slytherin House. Obviously, that was far more undesirable than simply enduring the derision of her classmates.

The prefect, Rosalie West, had been alerted twice to Zoe's distress over the weeks and had stayed with the first year for nearly two hours one night, telling Zoe not to listen to those that tried to make her feel bad.

"Everyone who knows anything knows that Snape's a bloody hero," she'd said. "The Death Eater stuff…that was just a cover. He helped Harry Potter, protected him while he was at Hogwarts—no real Death Eater would have done that."

A part of Zoe knew that, for she had read about it. Her father _had_ been a Death Eater, but sometime in 1981, he'd turned spy for Dumbledore. But he had still been a Death Eater, participated in Death Eater activities. And, apparently, Voldemort himself had ascended her father to the position of Hogwarts Headmaster and placed two other Death Eaters as teachers. All the books said it, but none seemed to tell Zoe exactly what she wanted to know: none of them told her _why_.

"You don't think he's still a Death Eater?" Zoe asked curiously. For some reason, she found that she valued Rosalie's opinion.

"I doubt it," Rosalie stated. "That wouldn't make any sense at all."

"But why wouldn't he tell me?" She sniffled.

Rosalie had sighed. "I don't know. Sorry. But… well, Snape's a complicated bloke. I'm sure he had his reasons. And, look, I bet there are loads of things my parents haven't told me about themselves when they were younger. You shouldn't take it personally."

Zoe didn't respond to that, but Rosalie plowed on nonetheless.

"I mean, you weren't even born when all that was going on. His being a Death Eater… that information hasn't been important to either of your lives until now. Maybe he just didn't want to give it much thought."

Zoe nodded, archiving that perspective in her mind. Currently, it did little to make her feel better, but it was a valid point.

Over those long days of father-daughter discord, Zoe had come to expect her teachers pulling her aside to ask how she was or try to tell her a story about her father. Aside from Minerva, Professor Flitwick had been the most dedicated to this mission.

"He is quite a brave fellow," the little man said to Zoe after Charms. It was the third time he'd made such a comment to her. "I'd trust him with my life. All our lives rested with him at one time, after all, and he didn't let us down."

"So, then, you didn't actually believe that he was Voldemort's most trusted follower when he was Headmaster?"

Zoe had just read about her father's tenure as Headmaster the night before. Evangeline Selwyn had passed her the most updated copy of _Hogwarts: A History _in the common room, having bookmarked the relevant chapters toward the end for her—all about her father as headmaster and the Battle of Hogwarts. From the accounts in that tome, even Minerva had worked to thwart her father's reign. Even Minerva had thought him a Death Eater, Voldemort's man through and through.

Professor Flitwick looked decidedly uncomfortable with her question. "I'm afraid that I did think that he was back then. But the truth came out soon enough…"

"Right," Zoe responded. She'd read about how the Carrow siblings—Amycus and Alecto—had tortured first years with the Cruciatus Curse during class and as punishment for petty misbehaviors. Her father hadn't stopped it. It had made Zoe physically ill to read about.

Sometimes she allowed her professors to tell their stories—they all treated her kindly, pitying her, no doubt—and sometimes she'd make an excuse as to why she couldn't hang around. None of it changed her feelings on the matter for she just couldn't bring herself to believe any of them, to buy into what they were saying about her father's character or accolades.

What Zoe hadn't expected was to be pulled from her Herbology class by Professor Lupin nearly a fortnight into her and her father's estrangement.

The class had been discussing the properties of simple herbs that day—mint, thyme, and rosemary—when the Transfiguration professor had quietly opened the door into Greenhouse Four.

"Professor Longbottom, excuse me," Lupin spoke. "I wonder if I might have a word with Zoe?"

Zoe's eyes grew wide, but she wasn't really surprised. Professor Lupin was, after all, someone she had figured would try to speak with her about her father and his past, try to get her to make amends with him. Lupin hadn't done so yet, so she had supposed it was only a matter of time. It was odd, however, that he would take her from a lesson in order to do so.

As she stood from her stool to make her way toward the professor, he spoke directly to her.

"Actually, you should gather your things, Zoe. You won't be returning to class."

That was odd. There was still over an hour of Herbology left and she wouldn't be returning? Clearly, she was about to have quite the lecture from her professor...

However, instead, she found herself being led toward the hospital wing.

"There's been an accident. Your father was injured in his N.E.W.T. Defense class. Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to see him."

Zoe stopped in her tracks, her emotions suddenly more complicated and overwhelming than they'd been only a few moments before. She hadn't thought that would have been possible. The underlying betrayal and anger was still there, as it had been for so many days, but now it was intermingled with a strong and unexpected feeling of worry.

When Professor Lupin noticed she had stopped, he turned to look back at her. It was truly a testament to his empathetic nature that he did not seem put off that Zoe had stopped. No doubt, Zoe's face conveyed her anxiety and two-sided emotions plainly.

He walked back to her slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know you're not currently on the best of terms with your father, but you should see him. With his injuries, Madam Pomfrey is keeping him unconscious. You won't have to speak to him."

Zoe looked into her professor's kind eyes and, slowly, she nodded and continued into the castle with him.

"You know, your father and I were something of rivals when we attended Hogwarts," Professor Lupin said casually as they walked across the Entrance Hall, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked over to Zoe. "We didn't like each other much."

Zoe glanced sideways at her professor and nodded her head. "I knew that. He still doesn't like you very much."

For some confusing reason, that comment elicited a laugh from her professor.

"That's probably true. I would not say we are friends, even now. But I respect your father immensely and I like to think he respects me as well."

Zoe nodded.

"Do you know why I respect him so much?"

Clearly, Professor Lupin was not going to let this go; he was going to try to convince her to stop being angry, just like all the other professors. She eyed him again, briefly, as they started up the stairs, but she did not speak.

"Severus may be a difficult man to associate with, but his actions during the last war spoke volumes about his courage, compassion, and integrity. He willingly put himself in incredible danger to bring important information to our side. If not for him, it's very possible we'd still be living under Voldemort's reign today."

Still, Zoe didn't speak.

"Do you understand?" Lupin asked kindly. "Your father is a hero."

Zoe couldn't help that her next words came out as an annoyed sigh. "That's what everyone keeps saying."

"So, then, you see that the Dark Mark on his arm bears little meaning anymore?"

Zoe stopped then and looked up to her professor. They were in front of the doors to the hospital wing by that point.

"It means something to me," she responded and entered the ward.

Minutes later, she stood at the foot of her father's bed, looking down onto him. He seemed to have been placed there in something of a flurry. His long, billowy teaching robes were bunched around his shoulders and nobody had bothered to remove his boots before placing him on the mattress. His right arm was hanging limply off the side of the bed while one eyelid remained eerily cracked open—just enough to see a gleam of light reflecting off the black iris within.

Minerva stood beside her as Madam Pomfrey fussed at her father's side, waving her wand, casting diagnostic spells.

"Mr. O'Malley's shield charm was strong," the mediwitch explained. "Lukas Andersen said they'd been having a practical lesson. Apparently, Severus has taken to dueling with the seventh years individually in recent weeks and, when he cast a simple Stunner, O'Malley countered it with quite a bit of gusto. The force of it shot Severus into the wall, knocking him out cold."

"Skull fracture?" Minerva asked.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Fortunately, no. It's just a bad concussion, which I've already remedied, but I'm keeping him sedated through the night to give his ribs time to repair. Nearly all of them were fractured from the initial force and his left shoulder blade is completely broken. If he were to be awake, it'd be significantly painful for him over the next few hours while the Skelegro does its work."

"Yes, it's probably best that he sleeps through that," Minerva agreed. "But he'll be all right?"

Madam Pomfrey gave a single nod. "He'll be good as new soon enough."

Minerva nodded and looked to Zoe.

"Do you have any questions for Madam Pomfrey?"

Zoe met her godmother's eyes briefly and shook her head before looking back to her father.

"You have my permission to stay with him until dinner," Minerva said, placing a consoling hand on Zoe's shoulder briefly before walking toward the exit.

"I don't want to," Zoe said quietly. "I have...homework."

The look on Minerva and Madam Pomfrey's faces was the same: shocked, yet sympathetic. Zoe felt guilt rise up in her again—she knew they were judging her for not wanting to stay with her injured father—but she squashed that feeling down as she walked past the Headmistress and into the corridor. A moment later, she was joined.

"Classes are still in session, so I'll escort you to Slytherin House."

Zoe didn't say anything to that and she remained quiet for the entire journey into the dungeons, as did Minerva.

"I'll allow you to take the rest of the day off to sort through your thoughts on this matter, but I ask that you remain in your dormitory until after classes have been dismissed for the day so as not to alert anyone to any perceived truancy."

Zoe gave a short nod to acknowledge Minerva's request, spoke the password, then entered the Slytherin common room, heading straight for her room. Patrick Rhodes, as a prefect on his free period, tried to stop her (obviously having heard about her skiving earlier in the week), but Zoe assured him that the Headmistress had given permission for her to be out of class this time.

Once in her room, she collapsed onto her four-poster and drew the curtains around, shutting out the world. Her mind was so conflicted about everything. She was worried about her father, but still so angry with him, still so resentful of his untruthfulness.

Curling into a ball and hugging a pillow to her body, Zoe closed her eyes tight, wishing the events of the last several days and the knowledge she'd obtained would just stop rushing through her mind, flowing like water rapids over rocks. Flashes of the Dark Mark on her father's arm came to mind at the same time that she thought about Persephone Winston—the fourth year Ravenclaw girl whose uncle the Death Eaters had killed.

She mourned for the man, though she didn't even know him and didn't really even know his niece. But mostly, she mourned for the man she thought her father had been.

"Zoe, are you in here?"

Lottie's voice awakened Zoe hours later, and she realized that she had cried herself into a fitful nap filled with images that had elicited emotions of sadness and confusion. Her mother had been there, dressed all in white, holding her arms out toward Zoe. Then, she'd seen herself as a toddler, her father's hand resting on her head, only for Zoe to look over and see the Dark Mark upon his arm. Only it wasn't merely a faded tattoo, but a writhing, real snake protruding from his left arm. She recalled how she had screamed.

"Zoe?" Lottie pulled the hangings around her bed aside and looked down on her. "I heard about your father's accident. Are you all right?"

Zoe sat up, wiping the remnants of her tears away from her cheeks. "I'm okay," she said.

Lottie looked distressed by Zoe's appearance and demeanor, but she didn't comment on it.

"Do you want to go to dinner? It just started."

Zoe pushed herself to the edge of the bed. "I suppose so. Just…let me clean up."

Lottie nodded and stepped aside as Zoe made her way into the small, ensuite bathroom. There, she splashed her face with cool water and tied her long hair back into a ponytail. Feeling a bit more human, she exited the room and joined Lottie, heading for the common room.

As they passed by the open doors of the other rooms in the dormitory, voices started to filter out to her ears—specifically a very animated retelling of the N.E.W.T. Defense class that day…

"Snape was knocked cold. I'm telling you," one girl said.

Zoe stopped in her tracks.

"There's no way that Sean O'Malley, of all people, could have knocked Snape out with a shield charm." That voice sounded like Evangeline Selwyn and she seemed exceptionally skeptical. "The man's a dueling legend."

"I don't know… Snape seemed distracted. No doubt he could have taken O'Malley out blindfolded and wandless otherwise, but all that stuff with his daughter and the stories in _The Daily Prophet_… I mean, he's got stuff on his mind. It's understandable."

"If you say so," Evangeline countered. "It's just hard to believe."

As the girls in the room turned their conversation to other things, Zoe's eyes found Lottie's.

"I'm not very hungry," she said and turned back toward their room.

"Zoe," Lottie said kindly. "I think we should go talk to Professor McGonagall."

Zoe shook her head. "No. I'm fine. Go on to dinner."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. It's okay. I'm just not hungry anymore. Go on. I'll be all right."

Lottie looked decidedly unconvinced of Zoe's assertion that she'd be fine, but her friend nodded nonetheless and continued toward the door into the common room as Zoe made her way into her room where, once again, she curled up on her bed with the curtains drawn.

She cried.

* * *

><p>Zoe had tossed and turned for hours that night, unable to sleep. Though she had tried to tell herself that it was just because she hadn't eaten dinner or that she was anxious about a quiz she'd be taking in Transfiguration the next afternoon, she knew better.<p>

It was guilt.

The whole truth was that it was her fault her father was currently lying up in the hospital wing. It was all Zoe's fault. Why did she have to be such a terrible, selfish daughter? Why did she have to keep dragging things like this out? If she and her father were talking, he wouldn't have been distracted in class and he would never have let that Hufflepuff boy best him in a simple classroom duel.

Throwing her covers back, Zoe got out of bed and quietly pulled her school robes on over her pajama bottoms and t-shirt, and exited the Slytherin dormitory.

Quietly and with caution so as not to get caught out of bed well after midnight, Zoe navigated the corridors of the school to the doors of the hospital wing. Looking around warily, she cracked open the door and slipped inside, grateful that she hadn't run into anyone on her trek up from the dungeons.

She could see the privacy curtains surrounding her father's bed on the far side of the wing. It was the only occupied bed, luckily, but Zoe still took care to walk slowly and soundlessly across the floor toward him. Reaching the curtains, she looked around her once more to make sure she hadn't been seen, and then snuck inside.

Her father lay on the bed in a much more comfortable position than he had been in when she'd seen him earlier. His skin was pale and his eyes were closed. If not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, Zoe might have thought he was dead. Madam Pomfrey had also apparently taken the liberty of changing him into a pair of white, infirmary pajamas that only enhanced the gaunt look of his sedated face.

Zoe stood looking down at him for a long time as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

Why was she being so stupid about all this? Clearly, her father cared enough to be upset by her actions, to be distracted by them even, and clearly, he respected her enough to keep his distance.

So, what was the matter with her? What was making her continue to feel so much resentment toward the wizard in front of her? The lies bothered her, and the secrecy for sure but…for now, she wanted to put it all aside.

Wiping away streaks from her face, Zoe approached the bed cautiously. She reached out and tentatively touched her father's hair. A part of her sank when he didn't stir—her father had always been a notoriously light sleeper. The sedated nature of his slumber only made him seem unreal, which made him distant to Zoe.

More tears came.

Taking a deep, rattled breath, Zoe crawled onto the bed beside her father's motionless form. She was perched on her side on the thin hospital bed rather awkwardly, but she wrapped one arm over his bandaged ribs and laid her head against his shoulder and that enabled her to lie relatively comfortably.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she whispered as she wept. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

><p>Severus awoke groggily, wincing as a splitting headache struck him. He'd have raised his right arm to rub at his forehead, but he noticed instantly that it was pinned beneath another body. Looking down, the familiar dark hair of his daughter came into view and he realized that she was curled up beside him, fast asleep. The dried streaks of tears on her cheeks did not go unnoticed as someone cleared their throat very near to him.<p>

He looked up to see Minerva standing at the foot of the bed, a perplexed look upon her face. Wrinkling his brow, he tried to convey to her with his eyes only the question he yearned to ask.

Minerva seemed to catch on, so she pulled her wand from her sleeve and cast a _Muffliato_ around Zoe's form.

"Good morning," she said then, her tone distracted.

"What is this?" Severus asked, his throat uncomfortably dry, as he lifted his head up to address the Headmistress.

"I don't know what she's doing here," Minerva responded. "I escorted her back to Slytherin House myself yesterday afternoon and she did not make it to dinner in the Great Hall. Lottie Wickham informed me that Zoe had said she wasn't hungry."

"You allowed my daughter to wander the corridors at night _by herself_?"

Minerva pursed her lips. "I think we both know that no manner of allowing or disallowing her would have stopped her from doing just as she pleased in her current emotional state. Just relish the fact that your child seems to have forgiven you."

Severus laid his head back into the pillows. There was that.

"I have to make an appearance at breakfast. I only came early to check on your progress this morning. Madam Pomfrey should be in soon. Are you in pain?"

"Immeasurably," Severus managed to groan as he attempted to adjust his body without moving it too much. Zoe's arm upon his chest wasn't helping the discomfort of what he imagined were several broken ribs.

Minerva nodded. "I'll stop by her quarters on my way downstairs to let her know you need a pain potion. If Zoe wishes to stay with you when she wakes, I will excuse her from class."

"Thank you."

The Headmistress nodded and exited. Severus looked down to his slumbering daughter once more. With a wave of his left hand, he lifted the _Muffliato_ before placing said hand on the girl's head, running his fingers over her hair delicately. Zoe didn't stir, but that didn't surprise Severus. If she was anything like him—and he'd heard enough about how much she assuredly was—she had likely been getting as little sleep over the last fortnight as he had. She was likely in an exhaustion-induced doze.

He'd let her sleep.

It only meant he'd have to ignore the fact that his right arm was tingling from her weight upon it and try his best not to move, despite his desperate inclination to. Taking deep breaths, he delved into Occlumency to calm his mind and attempt to ignore the pain of his head and torso.

Hours later, he awoke with a start and realized that he'd fallen back into sleep. His daughter was gone.

"Where is Zoe?" he asked aloud.

"Zoe?" he heard Poppy ask from near his bed. "I imagine she is in class."

"She was here," Severus said, glaring at the witch.

"Yes, I woke her when I came in this morning. Your fingers were turning blue."

Severus let out an exasperated growl. "And? Is she coming back?"

The pitying look on Madam Pomfrey's face said all he needed to know.

Severus closed his eyes. All the hope he'd gained in those few minutes that morning as he'd awoken to find his child lying beside him faded away in an instant and he was left to his misery once more.

* * *

><p><strong><em>I like reviews. Almost as much as I like pizza. And I LOVE pizza. (Note: I may like reviews more than pizza)<em>**


	36. To Be a Father, Trying to Understand

_**Hello! Oh gosh, it's been at least a decade since I last updated. At least it feels that way. October to February is far too long... But I have a reason! And that reason is... writing is hard. And I'm a perfectionist. And, well, sometimes characters don't behave very well when you're trying to write them and sometimes you get writer's block and... okay, enough excuses. Anyway, this chapter is a long one. Almost 12,000 words, but I think it's worth it. There are some pretty meaty conversations. So, I hope you enjoy it!**_

* * *

><p><strong>To Be a Father, Despite the Mess<strong>

**And**

**Trying to Understand**

Severus looked up when someone knocked on his office door. He sighed heavily, annoyed at the interruption of his marking. It had been several weeks since his time in the hospital wing and, although he'd made a full physical recovery, his mood and general disposition had taken a significant hit—mostly due to the fact that he'd had no personal interactions with his daughter since that morning.

If that morning had even qualified as an interaction, for Zoe had been asleep.

His relationship with his students and colleagues had therefore suffered recently. Any and all effort he'd made to be more understanding and interactive in his classes, to encourage rather than disparage his students—every bit of progress he'd made over the first term at his daughter's behest—had been thrown from the proverbial window as he reverted back to the moodier, more cynical disposition of a time long past.

He could feel that he'd regressed and he hated it. Not that he'd ever be the pillar of professorial inspiration, esteem, or reverence, and though he'd always demand excellence from his students while finding apathy intolerable and worthy of mockery, he _had_ been trying to be less severe and authoritarian of late. He therefore loathed feeling as if he'd let his daughter down in this regard.

Not that she seemed to care these days. She ignored him as much as was possible and, though he'd noticed the angry looks she shot at him in her Defense class nearly every time he was deliberately unjust toward one of her classmates, she didn't challenge him and she hadn't left a note in invisible ink on her homework in weeks.

That was another matter entirely—Severus had started to notice the decline of Zoe's Defense homework. Her essays, though normally quite insightful and well-written for a first year, had started to resemble the caliber of work he'd expect of a well-educated troll. Even her grammar and punctuation were suffering, though she didn't seem to be able to bring herself to misspell anything…

"Come in," he said grumpily to whoever was on the other side of the door.

He raised an eyebrow when not only Lupin entered, but also Caspar Goode and Filius Flitwick.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Lupin started, holding the door open for his colleagues to come through. He then closed it. "We wanted a word."

"I couldn't have guessed," Severus said acerbically.

"We come as professors concerned for the academic wellbeing of one of your Slytherins," Lupin continued, pulling a few pieces of parchment from a pocket of his robes.

Severus's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps I'm wrong, but is it not school policy to owl the parents of struggling students before sitting down with their Head of House?" Severus asked.

"Normally, we would do that, yes," Lupin responded. "But this particular student's father happens to reside at Hogwarts. We felt this was a bit more efficient."

Severus gave him a serious look. He hadn't thought… He'd only imagined his and Zoe's strained relationship was taking a toll in his own class, that she was taking her frustrations out on him by deliberately underachieving in his subject. He never imagined she'd compromise her marks in other classes.

"She hasn't turned in an acceptable essay or actively participated in my class in over two weeks," Lupin responded, handing Severus the parchments.

Severus looked down to a series of short essays that were written in Zoe's hand. He skimmed the sentences and immediately noticed the same apathetic and careless writing he'd been barely tolerating in her Defense essays.

"Same for Potions," said Goode. "Her prep work is getting sloppy. Her hair growth serum yesterday was the consistency of cottage cheese."

Severus grimaced at that. Since coming out as a proficient brewer, Zoe's ingredients preparation had been extoled by the resident Potions Master as nothing short of meticulous—much like her father. Just after returning from the holidays, Goode had even hinted to Severus the idea of streamlining Zoe's Potions education in the coming term—putting her on a path to N.E.W.T-level around the beginning of her fourth year.

Severus ran a hand down his face.

"And Charms?" he asked lowly, bracing for the answer.

Filius, for his part, looked decidedly uneasy. "Well, she hasn't taken to my course nearly as adeptly as she has Transfiguration, but she was always slightly above average for her age. I worry, however, that if she can't catch up by the Easter holidays… she risks failing her end-of-year exams."

Severus threw his hands up, exasperated. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of it? How long has this been going on?"

"We wanted to give it time, Severus," Lupin placated. "We were unsure of how things were progressing between you and her and—"

Severus held up a hand to halt that line of reasoning.

"We're just trying to help," Goode spoke up, no doubt feeling the awkwardness and tension in the room rise. "This is uncharacteristic of Zoe and we want to make sure she isn't putting herself on an academic path that would be hard to come back from, but we also knew she was dealing with some…er, family issues."

"We know she's been through a lot lately," Lupin interceded. "And, ultimately, Zoe's marks—"

"Will be addressed," Severus finished, cutting him off deftly. He then eyed the professor severely, daring him to continue, for Severus did not intend to listen to some newfangled nonsense about marks not mattering in the long term or any other such rubbish his colleague wished to convey.

What the hell was going through that girl's head? Was it all just rebellion or retribution for his lack of transparency about his past? Or was there something else going on?

The three wizards looked around at each other uncomfortably. It was Flitwick who spoke first, ever the diffusor of hostile conversations.

"Perhaps it would be best that we discuss the sort of work Zoe would need to put in over the next few weeks in order to catch up with her classmates, hm?"

Severus inclined his head.

* * *

><p>Classes were finally done for the day. Zoe was sitting next to the fire in the common room, a book called <em>The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore<em> open on her lap, when Rosalie West approached her.

"Here," she said, handing Zoe a folded piece of parchment.

"What is it?" Zoe asked curiously, looking up at the prefect.

"It's from Professor Snape."

Zoe frowned, then set the parchment aside.

"I'd read it if I were you," Rosalie warned. "The tone is pretty strong."

"You read it?" Zoe asked, affronted.

Rosalie had the decency to look apologetic. "It's a boring walk from his office to here. Besides, he didn't seal it."

Zoe frowned even deeper, but she picked up the parchment and opened it.

_You will come to my office now. You will not delay and you will not disregard this request. I expect you promptly._

_Bring your schoolbooks._

Zoe let out a great sigh of resignation. She supposed she should have expected this. She knew her schoolwork had been horrendous lately—and not just in her father's class. Overall, she'd not been a very good pupil in any of her classes in recent weeks.

Rising from the soft cushion she'd perched herself upon, she trudged to her dormitory to gather her things before making the trek up to her father's office. There was really no point trying to shirk his command anyway.

When she noticed that the door was half-open, she chose not to knock. Instead, she poked her head around the door and looked into the office. Her father caught her eyes instantly, but didn't say anything. Taking a deep breath, Zoe fully entered his office and closed the door behind her. She fidgeted just inside, waiting.

Her father's facial features were inscrutable, but he didn't speak as he stood from his desk and came around it, striding to a student desk Zoe noticed was situated next to the wall near the entrance to his quarters. Upon the desk were several pieces of parchment.

Zoe watched her father pull the chair from beneath the small desk. He looked to her expectantly.

Zoe didn't move.

Her father looked to the heavens in frustration briefly before settling his intense gaze on her once more.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, I am not going to harm you. Come and sit down," he ordered.

Zoe could feel her cheeks flushing slightly and she looked to the ground. Slowly, she moved forward and slid into the chair, which her father pushed in once she was seated. She looked up at him.

"Did you bring your books?" he asked.

In answer, Zoe merely looked down to her rucksack, which she'd placed on the floor at her feet. Her father inclined his head and started back toward his desk.

"I will not force you to speak with me about…other matters that may be on your mind, though you may if you feel so inclined. However, you are behind in all your classes and I demand an explanation for this apathy."

Zoe met her father's eyes for several seconds then looked down into her lap. She shook her head.

"No?" her father asked, his tone rife with annoyance.

"I don't know," Zoe said quickly, trying to deflect an angry outburst by her father. "I don't know why I don't care anymore. I just… I don't know."

She really didn't know why. She supposed her performance in Defense was somewhat conscious but everything else… well, she just hadn't been in the mood for school. She knew that wasn't an excuse that was likely to placate her father—any of her teachers, for that matter—but it was the truth. She just couldn't bring herself to be fussed lately.

And she hated that feeling. It was as if she was malfunctioning in some way.

She felt lethargic and unmotivated every day. She felt isolated and sad. She felt like she didn't know the point of it all. And she'd been spending much of her time reading books about the war, which took up a significant amount of time. If she thought about it, that was most of what she read these days. She couldn't actually remember when she last finished a reading assignment for Transfiguration or History of Magic and she knew that she definitely hadn't been reading through the instructions in Potions very diligently lately either. Her shoddy brews were a testament to that.

And she did feel guilty that she was disappointing her teachers but, for some reason, that guilt hadn't been enough to motivate her.

Her father was silent, merely staring at her. After a while, he gave a single nod of his head.

"Luckily, I have managed to convince your other professors to accommodate this… situation. You will use this time each day—in this office—until you are caught up. The parchments there are all the assignments or essays you've failed to complete or otherwise completed to a mediocre standard. When you finish them, you will give them to me to look over and approve before you hand them in to your teachers."

Zoe merely stared past her father dully and, as the seconds ticked by without an acknowledgement, she could feel him growing angrier.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Zoe didn't answer him, too caught up in her own thoughts on being forced to spend time in her father's office every day until she caught up to her classmates. This was going to be horrible.

"So everything is understood?"

Zoe shrugged unconsciously, barely hearing his words. That action elicited a growl from her father as he slammed a hand on the surface of the desk. She flinched at the sudden noise and movement and looked at him once more—having achieved her attention.

Her father let out a breath then leaned against his desk and brought a hand up to rub at his forehead, as he often did after his temper had gotten away from him.

"I will be damned if I allow the mistakes of my past to ruin your future," he said lowly, dropping his hand to his side and glaring at her. "I refuse to continue to turn a blind eye to the goings on of your day-to-day simply because you are displeased with me. I am your father and I will not tolerate indifference and mediocrity when it comes to your academic performance." He then turned toward his chair to sit again and spoke less menacingly. "Do your schoolwork. Now."

Zoe's eyes widened. Despite his intimidating stature, that was the first time that he'd acknowledged why she was angry him. It was the first time that he'd conceded that he'd erred in any way. Reading between the lines, she could also sense that he understood her feelings, at least in part, which was the only explanation as to why he was giving her this opportunity to correct her assignments. Had mere laziness or inefficient time management been the cause of her poor academic performance, she doubted her father would be so accommodating. She'd likely just have been issued detentions at school and spent her holidays on restriction at home.

And that notion moved something within her; a part of her was…_relieved_…that he'd taken offense to her poor marks and lack of class participation. A part of her was grateful that he cared enough to push her in this way. It seemed…normal and familiar. It seemed straight out of their days before…well, before she'd found out.

Zoe reached down into her bag and pulled a quill and her inkwell from her rucksack, as well as her Charms book. Taking the first piece of parchment, she began to answer the questions silently.

Equally silent, Zoe could feel her father's eyes on her for the first several minutes that she worked, but she tried to pretend that she didn't notice.

Zoe had finished two short answer assignments for Charms when she heard her father clear his throat, vying for her attention. She looked up at him.

Their eyes met briefly but, as her father began to talk, he looked away from her.

"If there is anything you wish to say to me—anything you wish to ask—you may, you know," he said softly.

Their eyes met again and Zoe shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "There isn't anything," she responded, equally as quiet. "Not yet."

A hopeful look appeared in her father's eye for a brief moment, but was gone in a flash. Without any acknowledgement, he went back to his work and Zoe went back to hers.

Father and daughter did not talk for the two hours that they remained in the office together and, when it was time for dinner, her father merely dismissed her—but not without making sure she understood that he expected her there again tomorrow followed by a calm reminder that she should continue to practice clearing her mind before bed each night.

* * *

><p>"Do you believe that she's depressed?" Minerva asked Severus later that night over a cup of tea.<p>

She had invited herself into his quarters again—as she'd done nearly every night since he'd been released from the hospital wing. He had therefore taken the opportunity to recount his interaction with his daughter that afternoon.

"There's certainly a level of genetic predisposition for it," he stated numbly, looking into the fire. "So, it's possible, but I'm unsure."

Minerva nodded solemnly.

"And there's been no change on her part to talk with you about your Mark or the war?"

"None."

The two professors sat in silence for several moments.

"Well, she doesn't seem to be distancing herself from her friends. If she does so, we should be worried. But for now, what do you propose we do?"

"Continue to wait. What more is there to do when no other tactic has been successful? Even the revered _Professor Lupin_ has been unable to sway her mind."

Minerva took a sip of her tea and gave a small nod. "Do you believe that she'll come to you eventually? That is, if she finds the truth that she seeks in the research she's been doing?"

Severus shook his head. "Merlin knows," he said, resigned. "She may decide never to speak to me again."

"I'm certain that will not be the case," Minerva reassured. "After all, time heals all wounds."

"Speak for yourself," Severus grumbled.

* * *

><p>It took Zoe a little over a fortnight of daily, silent work in her father's office to complete all her missed assignments but by the time the Easter holidays were on the horizon, she was back to competing for the top of the class. Her general sadness hadn't abated, by any means, nor had her sense of betrayal or drive to find out everything about the war, but at least she was prioritizing better. She had even practiced Occluding every night, which seemed to help, however briefly.<p>

She could sense worry in her friends, though. Lottie rarely went a night where she didn't ask Zoe how she was feeling. Zoe tried to be upbeat and tell her best friend that she'd been feeling better lately, but she was certain that Lottie never believed her.

Caroline, John, and Glendora seemed to be going out of their way to set up study sessions with Zoe as well. These were a way for them to keep an eye on her, obviously, but they rarely involved studying. Usually, Zoe would ask John and Caroline what they knew about certain parts of the war that she had been reading about. This proved to be somewhat aggravating for them, for they didn't seem to be as concerned or focused on the subject as was Zoe. And, in all actuality, their knowledge of those events seemed to be sparse at best, consisting mainly of sporadic facts of people and vague descriptions of battles—which seemed to be consistent among the children of the Voldemort Wars generation. Nobody was a wealth of knowledge on the topic, not even Rosalie West, Patrick Rhodes, or Lukas Andersen—or any of the other older students she'd asked. Even Angus Longbottom had struggled to answer Zoe's rather specific questions when Zoe cornered him outside Greenhouse Four one morning when they'd crossed paths between classes.

It had all been rather disappointing.

Overall, Zoe _had_ been doing better, though, despite feeling as if she was just going through the motions of her life and not actually living it. Each day, it became a little easier to handle the emotional fluctuations brought on with new bits of knowledge about her father's past, but those fluctuations still presented themselves at inconvenient times.

Such was the case one early afternoon, a little over a week before their holiday break.

She had been in the library, sitting with all her friends. Glendora and John were competing over who could levitate their books the highest while Lottie and Caroline worked together on a Potions essay. Zoe, on the other hand, had continued to delve into a biography of Albus Dumbledore that she'd picked up after completing the_ Life and Lies_ book.

She'd nearly finished it—it had been a harrowing tale of secrecy and manipulation, a beautiful story of compassion and familial love, and brilliant in many regards, for Dumbledore had been a sincerely brilliant wizard, despite his odd and sometimes aggravating portrait. The descriptions of his two greatest battles between Grindelwald in 1945 and Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic in 1996 had been gripping, to say the least.

Zoe had just turned to the last chapter, _The Final Days_, and began reading when, on the next page, her eyes glanced and then instinctually gravitated toward a name that she was all too familiar with: Snape.

Disregarding the beginning of the chapter, Zoe turned her attention to her father's name, moving up a few lines to pick up the context of the paragraph.

_Had Dumbledore known that fateful night that Death Eaters would find a way to enter the nearly impenetrable walls of Hogwarts, had he known that he would succumb to an Avada Kedavra curse fired by his own professor, Severus Snape, the Headmaster may not have taken the journey to the seaside cave with Harry Potter that night._

Zoe's eyes went wide and she read the long sentence again. Then she read it once more to make sure that it said what she thought it said. After reading it a fourth time, she sat back in her chair, staring at the words on the page, but no longer really seeing them.

She must have gasped, for she alerted not only her friends but also several others around her.

"Zoe, what's wrong?" Lottie asked, concerned.

Zoe looked up into her friend's eyes as tears began to well.

"Zoe?" Caroline said beside her, putting a hand on her arm. "Are you all right?"

Zoe shook her head, disrupting the pooled tears. They began to run down her face.

"He killed him," she managed to choke out.

Lottie looked confused. "Who killed who?"

"Papa. He killed Professor Dumbledore." The words came out as a sob.

Lottie's brow wrinkled.

"But, how do you—"

"Zoe, we know," John spoke up then. "Everyone knows that."

Zoe shot him an angry, emotional glare. "_I_ didn't know that!"

John looked taken aback. "We assumed you knew. I mean, nobody really talks about it, but—"

"Yes," Caroline spoke up. "When you found out that he was a Death Eater… And you've been doing all that research… We sincerely thought you knew."

Zoe let out a sob and put her face into her hands. She could tell that the library had gone completely silent but nobody seemed to know how to handle the situation.

Soon, the shame of crying in front of everyone and the embarrassment of just discovering for the first time what was clearly common knowledge for everyone else became overwhelming.

She stood then and, leaving all her things behind, she left, running down the corridor, ignoring the Bloody Baron shouting at her to walk. The first girls' lavatory she came to, she entered. Seeing it was vacant, she locked the door, and collapsed against the wall and cried. Cried for what felt like the millionth time in recent weeks.

It was all too much. How could he do such a thing? _Why_ would he do such a thing?

She was mostly indifferent to the Dumbledore Portrait. She didn't like nor dislike him, but he didn't seem like a bad person and the books she'd read had all seemed to paint him as brilliant, magnanimous, accepting, and understanding, for the most part. He'd been very politically and morally progressive in his later life, though he'd come from a rather troubled family situation and had apparently had some grandiose aspirations in his youth. He certainly hadn't seemed like someone who deserved… deserved to be murdered. And it seemed like so much wasted power and wisdom. And for what reason? What possible explanation could her father have for killing him, even in a time of war? Dumbledore had vouched for him to become a professor—though Zoe still didn't know exactly the story there—and he'd stood by her father over the years when others, like that Moody wizard, had tried to discredit him. If anything, it seemed like her father should have been grateful to Dumbledore.

None of it made sense. Her father had been a Death Eater—could possibly still be one for all she knew—yet, she had read so many accounts of his being "heroic" because he had helped Mr. Potter, as if that somehow absolved him of all the bad things he'd done. Because he'd surely done bad things as a Death Eater, right?

None of the accounts she'd read, good or bad, went into much detail, however, and she'd read nearly as many—if not more—excerpts that described her father as "shifty", "enigmatic", and "acerbic" as she had passages that linked him to the various heroes of the war.

It was just all too contradictory and complicated. It was just all too much…

Zoe wasn't aware of exactly how long she stayed in the bathroom, but she imagined it was quite some time for the sun had started to go down. It had to have been nearing dinnertime.

Standing, she walked to one of the sinks and splashed cold water on her face. Feeling more composed, Zoe exited the bathroom and, as she strode through the door, she ran headlong into someone passing by. The person put their hands on her arms to steady her so she would not fall.

"Sorry," she said, looking up into green eyes.

"It's all right, Zoe," Mr. Potter stated. "It was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Zoe gave him a weak smile, unconcerned with why the Auror was at Hogwarts. "It's all right."

She moved away from him and down the short corridor that led to the Entrance Hall. Once in the grand, marbled entryway, Zoe paused. She didn't really want to go back to the Slytherin common room, but she didn't have anywhere else to go that she could think of. She therefore walked toward the main stairwell, but she only climbed a few steps before sitting down next to the stone railing, feeling tired and defeated, wishing her brain would just shut off and stop rehashing everything she knew and felt.

She leaned her head sideways against the railing and sighed heavily as a few more tears leaked from her eyes. Several minutes passed, then Zoe felt she was being watched and, when she looked up into the Entrance Hall, she could see Mr. Potter standing beside the tall doors that led to the grounds. He was staring at her.

When their eyes locked, his face conveyed something rather pitying. He came toward her then.

"Hi, Mr. Potter," Zoe said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?" the wizard asked.

Zoe shook her head and the wizard sat, giving her plenty of space.

Several moments passed and neither said a word. Zoe glanced at James's father many times out of the corner of her eye. He really was exactly as distinctive as the books had described. Jet black hair, round glasses, slender…she could even see the famed lightning bolt scar on his forehead when he ran his hands through his hair.

She'd read that he'd been treated rather poorly by his Muggle relatives after his parents had been killed by Voldemort, that his relatives hadn't wanted him and had, in fact, feared and resented him for his magical abilities. She'd read that the wand that had chosen him when he was just eleven years old had curiously been a brother wand of Voldemort's and that he'd won the Tri-Wizard Tournament as a fourth year. She'd read that he'd married his best friend's little sister, Ginny Weasley, James's mum, and that he was the youngest Head Auror in the history of the Ministry of Magic.

And she'd read that he was only seventeen when he defeated the Darkest wizard of all time.

She'd read many things about Mr. Potter in the last few weeks—learned far more about him than she had her father—but, sitting beside her, it was hard to envision him as the boy hero all the books had talked about. It was almost impossible to think of him as fierce and a vanquisher of Dark wizards for he just seemed…_normal_. He was kind and endearing, serious but pleasant. Sitting beside her, he just seemed like James's dad.

"That's a beautiful necklace," Mr. Potter observed eventually.

Zoe looked down to her chest where the hummingbird necklace hung just below her clavicle. She looked back to Mr. Potter.

"Thank you. It was my mother's."

Mr. Potter nodded. "I see. Your mother was named Elizabeth?"

Zoe nodded then. "Did you know her?" she asked eagerly.

Mr. Potter gave her a small, conciliatory smile. "No, I'm afraid I didn't. My link to your beginnings is through your father."

"Oh," Zoe said, looking away, disappointed. "I knew that. He was your teacher. James told me. And I've been reading… He also helped you take down that Voldemort wizard."

"He did," Mr. Potter responded. "I couldn't have done it without your father. He's the bravest man I've ever known."

Zoe wrinkled her nose, her anger and resentment coming to the surface slightly. She took a deep breath to try to keep them at bay. She could feel Mr. Potter looking at her, but she ignored him for several moments. Eventually, however, she looked back at him, directly into his eyes.

"I defended him, you know. In class and at dinner when they said he was awful. I defended him to everyone who said he was mean; I defended him to Cecilia Aaron. I got angry—I _hexed_ her—when she called him a coward. But this whole time he was— He was one of _them_."

Mr. Potter said nothing, merely looking at her, letting her get it out. But she could tell that he was weighing her words. The pensive look on his face was similar to the one her father made, the one Portrait Dumbledore made, when they were doing the same thing.

"It just doesn't make _sense_," she blurted. "_How_ can he be a Death Eater? How could he do such horrible things? _Why_ would he do such horrible things?"

Beside her, Mr. Potter sighed. Not the exasperated sigh of frustration, but a sigh of resignation.

"Snape _was_ a Death Eater during both of Voldemort's reigns; it's well-documented and there's no denying that as fact," Mr. Potter said. "But by the time I was your age—ten years before that even—he was no longer allegiant to Voldemort. He worked as a spy for Dumbledore instead, only playing his part among the ranks of the Death Eaters."

"That's what I've read, but… even as a spy-Death Eater, he would have—"

Zoe stopped and shook her head. Just the thought of any of the atrocities she'd read about the Death Eaters committing in the past made her feel ill. And the idea that her father had most likely participated… it made her want to weep and rage at the same time.

"He would have had to do some pretty horrible stuff, yeah," Mr. Potter conceded, finishing her thought for her. "Or stood by as others did horrible things."

Zoe looked into his eyes and nodded solemnly. Again, Mr. Potter sighed.

"You know, I've had several conversations with James about this. He's had many of the same questions and feelings on the matter and, like you, he doesn't understand how such a hero could also have such nefarious dealings. I'll tell you what I told him: in war, there are often things that must be done, gruesome things. Nobody wants to do them, but somebody has to. Those people are often the most brutally criticized for their actions when the war ends. But without their sacrifice, the possibility of continued oppression is likely, sometimes imminent. Your father was one of these people, these deceivers of the shadows. He sacrificed much—his own life and career aspirations—to bring a continuous flow of intelligence to the Order of the Phoenix. He put his life in danger for years looking out for me and working alongside Dumbledore to bring Voldemort and the Death Eaters down from within. He never intended to be a spy or a hero any more than I intended to be the Chosen One, but he rose to the occasion gloriously and the world is a better place because of him."

"That's not to say that the actions he took were right, necessarily, or that they were wrong… Maybe they were just the only way to succeed. Maybe his choices were merely the quickest routes to victory—to try to limit the suffering of innocents. Perhaps there were better decisions he could have made. But, regardless, I'm certain he's grappled with the morality of his misdeeds and deceptions far more than any one of us could even imagine. I'm sure he struggles with all of that to this day. That's why I respect him. That's why he's the bravest man I've ever known."

Zoe stared at Mr. Potter, absorbing his words. And, as much as it all made sense, there was still something nagging at her. Mr. Potter's impression of her father was obviously reverent, but he seemed to be sidestepping what Zoe was saying. Yes, her father had done good things and, although she hardly knew specifics, she'd been told that he'd saved hundreds of lives over the years. But did those good things cancel out the bad ones? Did those things cancel out his initial decision to align himself with the Death Eaters and Voldemort?

Her expression must have been extremely skeptical.

"I think the reason this makes no sense to you," Mr. Potter began again, "is because your head isn't listening to what your heart is telling you. You're trying to reconcile everything you've ever known in your life, all your fond memories, with the knowledge of events that happened in your father's past—long before you were even born. But your father is a different man now than he was then. And the Severus Snape I knew as my teacher is far removed from the teacher—the father—he is now, who is equally as different to the boy my mother grew up with. Not all people are as complex as your father, Zoe, but if he did not live through the experiences that he has, he would not be who you know him to be now."

"A liar?" Zoe said moodily, reflexively.

Mr. Potter frowned. "A good man, a bloody brilliant wizard and, from what I've seen and heard, a damn good father to you," he said, his voice very serious.

Zoe looked down to her hands then, embarrassed, fully recognizing his reprimand for what it was.

A few minutes passed in silence. Finally, Mr. Potter spoke again and his tone was much less of an admonishment. It was kind again.

"I heard you were pretty shaken up after the attack at Spinner's End."

Zoe nodded her head as tears stung her eyes again—both from anger and sadness.

"Yeah," she sniffled. "I saw a Death Eater fall from the roof…he was dead."

Mr. Potter nodded solemnly and the expression on his face was pained and, oddly, contrite, as if he felt guilty for what Zoe had seen.

"I'm so sorry for what you witnessed and experienced, I truly am. But, think about it, Zoe," Mr. Potter said, turning inward toward her. "Why would Death Eaters attack your home if your father were loyal to them? Why would they come after him if he still ascribed to their cause? Why would they attack their own kind? Why would they openly call him a coward?"

"How should I know how Death Eaters think?"

Mr. Potter held his chin up, appraising Zoe.

"That isn't a very logically thought-out answer. That comes from anger and doubt. I'm certain you're capable of a more critical analysis than that."

Zoe's eyes narrowed aggressively at his challenge.

"He _killed_ people," she stated, wiping her palm against her cheek to clear the tears away.

Mr. Potter sat a little straighter and looked Zoe dead in the eye, his expression skeptical. After a moment, he reached into his robes and pulled out a wad of unused tissues. As he handed her one, he addressed her accusation.

"Did he?"

Zoe's eyes grew wide. She hadn't expected for him to respond with a question. But… surely, Mr. Potter knew…

"Yes. He killed Professor Dumbledore," she stated peevishly.

Mr. Potter nodded.

"Ah. Yes, I know. I was there that night. I saw the whole thing and, at the time, I thought I knew what had transpired too, but… well, I think Professor Dumbledore might have a very different opinion of that situation."

"But…"

Mr. Potter shook his head. "You've been reading, which is great… but in the complexity of the lives of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, details have been missed over the years. I think with a bit more research, you might find that not everything is as it seems."

Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"People change, Zoe," Mr. Potter said succinctly. "During the war, your father did what he had to do to survive, to assure that others survived—to assure that _I_ survived to end the suffering of our world. And all that with Dumbledore… you might benefit from obtaining your information from the source before you set your mind to anything."

They were quiet again as everything that had been said marinated in Zoe's mind. Despite what had been expounded in the last few minutes, there was still a nagging, an anger and sense of fear. She didn't know where it came from, but it was there and she didn't know how to dispel it.

"Perhaps the best thing that you can do is to not think of your father in a sense of the war, but to think of him as just a man, a wizard, your father," said Mr. Potter eventually. "Think about his relationship with you, his relationship with Minerva, with Scorpius Malfoy, and anyone else you may associate with regularly, anyone else you and your father hold in esteem. What has he done in those interactions that you have experienced that was so Dark and evil?"

Zoe wrinkled her brow.

"He… Er, there isn't really anything that I can think of," Zoe responded, looking down at her hands.

It was true. As her father, Zoe had never had any sort of impression while she was growing up that her father was Dark. Aside from the books in their home… but her father was also an academic, well-versed in a plethora of different subjects. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Of course he'd have literature of a more…disreputable nature.

"But…" she began, trying to organize her conflicted feelings into a singular question. "How do I… I mean, is he good? How could he be when he was doing what Dark wizards do all those years ago?"

Mr. Potter looked thoughtful. "Someone once told me that the world is not split into good people and Death Eaters. We all have both Light and Dark inside us. It is the part we act on that matters."

Zoe stared at Mr. Potter and he gave her another small smile.

"But, if you want my opinion, yes, I think your father is good. I believe he always was, even when he was doing not so good things. I just think he was in a dark place at a very reckless time in his life and he made decisions that he was unaware at the time would be likely to haunt him for the rest of his life. Do you not think his actions since—at least in the time that you've known him—have conveyed that he is good?"

Zoe didn't say anything. She felt it was a bit of a rhetorical question anyway.

"Think about that," he said to her, "and I think you should also think about talking _with_ your father about all this. He's going to be your best source of information. But in the meantime…"

Mr. Potter then pulled out his wand and swirled it onto the step just below Zoe's feet. She wrinkled her brow, confused, as she reached down to pick up the small stack of parchment that had materialized there. She sat back onto her step.

"What is it?"

"It's a forward. An incomplete forward, but a forward nonetheless," Mr. Potter responded. "More specifically, it's a forward that gives more details of the war for an as-yet-to-be-published book about the last years of Voldemort's terror with specific emphasis on the role of Severus Snape. You're still thinking about his life before, which I personally don't think you should focus on, but… Anyway, I think you'll find nearly everything else you want to know inside those pages—aside from your father's personal accounts, of course."

"Where'd you get it?" Zoe asked, looking up at the wizard once again.

Mr. Potter gave a small smile. "I am acquainted with the forward's author."

He stood then and began down the stairs. Nearly to the bottom, he paused and turned back to Zoe.

"James is exceedingly sorry for not telling you about your father, by the way. He just didn't feel it was something you'd want to hear from him."

Zoe stared at the wizard, her mouth open in slight surprise.

Mr. Potter then walked across the Entrance Hall and exited through the great doors of the castle.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Severus could be found tidying up his classroom from a group of seventh years that he had granted permission to practice dueling after classes. He headed into his office just off his classroom, exhausted from the day and supervising undisciplined duels.<p>

Though he left the door open, he did not expect any students to make use of what were supposed to be his office hours—open times for students to come to him with any questions about their Defense curriculum or for members of his House to bring him any concerns for his counsel.

They never came.

No, when a student found him- or herself standing before the desk in the office of Professor Severus Snape, it was not because they wanted to be there, but because he had ordered them there. In such an instance, it was extremely unlikely that said student would leave without buzzing ears and a timetable for detention.

When Severus felt that he was being watched, he looked up from the parchments on his desk toward the doorway and scowled.

"Potter," he practically spat. "What are you doing here?"

Harry Potter merely stood in the doorway, looking around at his surroundings with curiosity. His gaze eventually settled on the Defense professor.

"I was summoned."

"Again? A week's not passed since Minerva last requested a report from the Ministry. Surely there hasn't been any pressing matters in that time?"

Potter shook his head. "I was summoned for a different reason." When Severus merely arched an eyebrow at his former student, the man elaborated. "James. Apparently, he's reached some sort of limit to detentions for this term. I've just come from a meeting with Remus and Minerva."

Severus's scowl deepened.

"If you're here to bargain on behalf of your miscreant, don't bother. Not only will any pleas in his favor be ignored, but I am not the only one to issue him detentions. His other teachers find him nearly as insolent and disruptive as I. Even Lupin and Longbottom have been cracking down on his antics."

The elder Potter shook his head.

"I'm not here to plead a case for him. I'm fully aware of what he's been up to. Minerva felt that I should come have a talk with him before she is forced to suspend him."

"_Talk_," Severus snorted. "That boy could benefit from more than a talk."

"Yes, well…" Potter trailed off. "I left my thumbscrews in my office at the Ministry."

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Potter began again, "he tends to toe the line for a while after I've spoken with him. Even you might be hard-pressed to find a flaw in his behavior for the next few weeks."

"Doubtful," Severus stated plainly. "Is there something I can do for you, Auror Potter, or perhaps you're hoping to reminisce over old times?"

"Not particularly," Potter responded, fidgeting slightly. It was a reaction that Severus was surprised seemed rather uncharacteristic for the Boy-Who-Lived—The-Man-Who-Lived-Again.

"What is it, then?" he snapped. "I may not spend my days capturing Dark wizards or advising the Minister for Magic, but I assure you I am a busy man. I _do_ have work to attend to." He gestured to the papers stacked upon the desk.

Potter nodded solemnly and stepped into the office fully, closing the door behind him. Severus wrinkled his brow. What was this about?

When they were secluded from the classroom, Potter turned to Severus.

"I had no intention of meeting with you while I was here. However, something has been weighing on my mind since the other day when I was here and I thought I'd bring it to your attention."

Potter paused, glancing at Severus expectantly. When Severus merely raised his eyebrows, indicating that he wasn't going to cut the younger wizard off or expel him from his office, Potter continued.

"As I was walking down a corridor toward the Entrance Hall two days ago, I was very nearly knocked over by a very distracted first year Slytherin with tears in her eyes." The younger wizard locked eyes with Severus then for effect. "Her eyes were the most vivid, melancholy color of green I've ever seen."

Severus couldn't help the involuntary wince that took over his face. Composing his expression, he looked up to Potter.

"I'm sure Minerva has clued you in to the reason for that."

Potter shrugged. "She mentioned that Zoe had seen your Dark Mark for the first time and that she hasn't really talked to you since discovering it, yeah."

Severus's jaw tightened in agitation.

"And you're here to tell me how open about your past you are with your children, I suppose? You're here to say that I should have told her before she found out from some other source?"

"No," Potter stated calmly. "I just thought that you should be aware that I had a conversation with Zoe about you."

Severus frowned.

"And what, exactly, did you tell her?"

Harry Potter shrugged. "I'm sure nothing more than what everyone else has been telling her… I told her that she needed to talk to you if she wanted any real information. I said your role in the war was complex and that she really didn't have all the facts. She asked me what I thought about you, whether I thought you were a Dark wizard or not. I told her I didn't think you were…" Potter paused then for a moment. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. Eventually, he stood a little straighter and locked eyes with Severus.

"After all," he said, a playful tone to his voice all of a sudden, "how could I, Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort himself, name one of my sons after a Dark wizard?"

Severus wrinkled his brow at the younger wizard, who smiled sheepishly.

"You remember my son, Albus? His full name is Albus Severus Potter."

Severus scowled and Potter smiled instantly.

"He's a whiz at Potions, I must say. Loves to experiment…"

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, thinking better of it. When he could speak, he only managed to grumble: "Of all the preposterous names…"

"You may not feel deserving and I'm sure you never wanted such a thing, but after everything you did for me, I wanted to honor you," Potter stated. "Please don't hold it against him when he comes to Hogwarts next year."

Severus said nothing for he didn't really know what to say. He couldn't decide whether he was proud or irritated about it. He'd have to think on that later, after he'd figured out what to do about Zoe. Which brought him back to Potter.

"Is that all, Potter?"

"Basically. But also, that James is worried about Zoe. He says it's been weeks since you've talked to each other and, after what I witnessed the other day, it's obvious really…"

"What's that?"

"She misses you. She doesn't understand how the same man who has raised her, taught her, nourished her—loved her—could have such a…questionable past, such a dark past. It's none of my business, I know, but more than anything, I think she's confused—far more than she is angry."

Severus gave a slight nod of his head and Potter turned toward the door. Before he reached it, however, he paused. After several seconds, he turned back, a rather resolved expression on his face.

"I just need to say," he began, "that James has his flaws and he likes a laugh, but he's a good boy, really. He would do anything for his friends and his siblings and when he knows something is truly a serious matter, he's focused, responsible even."

"I thought you weren't here to defend him?" Severus asked, a bit annoyed that Potter had done exactly what he said he wasn't going to do.

"I'm not but, please, hear me out."

Severus sat back in his chair and waved his hand with indifference, allowing Potter to expound whatever it was he wished to extol about his eldest child.

"James sent me a letter a few weeks back. In it, he explained that he had become friends with Zoe, your Zoe, and that he knew you wouldn't approve, but that he would like to be her friend anyway."

"So, you're saying you've come to make sure that I don't fly off the handle—make them separate themselves from each other—in order to make sure your dunderheaded, ill-mannered son doesn't adversely influence my well-behaved, normally reasonably-minded daughter?"

"Not exactly," Potter said. "I told James that your approval or disapproval was none of my business."

"That's the smartest thing you've said so far."

"Right. I'm just asking that you give him a chance. For Zoe's sake. Acclimating to the notoriety may be rough for her. James has lived with that his whole life, he could be of help to Zoe."

Severus narrowed his eyes at Potter, considering the Auror's words. After a few seconds, he inclined his head once again.

"As a matter of fact I know of their friendship or, at least, I'm aware that they've spent time being friendly. I told Zoe I would not forbid it. I…_trust_…her choice of friends."

Potter smiled triumphantly. Severus pointed a finger at the younger wizard.

"Do not get it in your head that I in any way trust your son, however. I merely trust Zoe's judgment. But I have an eye on that boy."

"Duly noted," Potter said, grinning. "Good evening, Professor."

"Potter," Severus acknowledged as Potter exited.

* * *

><p>Zoe paced outside the door of the Headmistress's office. The gargoyles at the bottom of the revolving stairwell hadn't given her an ounce of grief about visiting without an appointment, though they had inquired as to why Zoe was not at dinner. She hadn't answered them as she stepped on the first step and rode them up to the small landing.<p>

She had since been pacing there for several minutes, building up her courage to knock. She didn't know why she was so apprehensive. In the few days since her conversation with Mr. Potter, she'd felt less…angry, less unsure of things, despite all the new information.

Of course, the forward he'd given her had helped somewhat. Even though it was clearly incomplete, it was written in such a concise, personal way that the information Zoe had received over the last several weeks was starting to become less jumbled in her mind. Though the forward wasn't entirely specific, she was beginning to see connections to various people and events that hadn't been there before. She had many questions still, but the facts of the forward had brought about far more understanding than she'd been able to muster as of yet.

Zoe took several deep breaths and paced some more. Before she went in, she wanted to try to work out how best to start the conversation without bursting into tears. She had just closed her eyes in the hopes that her meager Occlumency skills would help to calm her nerves when the thick, wooden door opened inward, revealing her godmother.

"You're aware that I am alerted to the presence of a visitor as soon as they enter the stairwell?" Minerva asked. "I've been waiting for you to knock for over ten minutes."

Zoe looked down to her feet. "I'm sorry," she said lowly and then didn't speak, feeling foolish and anxious again.

The next moment, Minerva had grabbed Zoe's arm and pulled her to her, wrapping her arms around her.

"It's perfectly all right," she said, giving Zoe a squeeze.

Zoe didn't exactly know what it was that had given Minerva the compulsion to hug her, but she appreciated the gesture. It comforted and calmed her.

When Minerva finally pulled away, she looked down on Zoe with the fondness Zoe was accustomed to, but there was worry there as well, though she was clearly trying to mask it.

"How are you?" she asked, moving away.

"I'm all right."

Minerva eyed Zoe critically as she stepped back behind her desk.

"You're sure?"

Zoe merely nodded and looked away. She hated that things were so awkward between her and Minerva.

"Very well," Minerva said, a hint of disappointment in her tone. She sat behind her desk once more as Zoe came forward to stand in front of it. "Was there something specific you needed with me or, perhaps, you just wanted a visit?"

Zoe shifted uncomfortably then. "Er, actually, Min, I was wondering if I could to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Zoe glanced up to the portrait above her godmother's head and saw the old wizard sit forward with interest.

"You may," Minerva stated, settling her gaze on Zoe before looking up at the portrait herself. "As long as Professor Dumbledore is amenable?"

Portrait Professor Dumbledore inclined his head and observed Zoe, his blue eyes sparkling with fondness.

"I am, certainly. I will always welcome a chat from any member of the Snape household."

Zoe fidgeted, feeling awkward. Her guilt had seeped into the forefront of her emotions as well, though she wasn't sure why that was at that particular time. It was something about Dumbledore's gaze, like he was fully aware of why Zoe was there—which was a bit embarrassing and unsettling. She didn't like this feeling, as if a portrait had more of a grasp and control of the situation than she did.

"Uh…well, I was wondering… I mean, if it's okay with you, er, could I talk to him alone?" she asked, addressing the Headmistress.

Minerva's eyes widened a bit, but she quickly composed any surprise. She stood and gave Zoe a small smile.

"Yes, of course. I'll just be in the antechamber."

Then her godmother left Zoe to face Dumbledore.

Zoe took a deep breath and came around the desk. Moving some parchments aside, she hopped up to sit onto the edge of the desk, settling her feet in Minerva's chair. She looked up to Dumbledore and got right to what she'd come here for.

"Is everything about Papa true?"

"My dear, I'm afraid you'll have to be much more specific, for I'm inclined to say that _everything_ one might hear about any given person is hardly _entirely_ accurate all the time."

Zoe frowned. Dumbledore's way of speaking was so infuriating.

"Okay… so he was really a Death Eater?"

"Yes. He was. He has the Mark to prove it, as I believe you know. I'm unaware of the specifics, but it is my understanding that he joined their ranks not long after leaving Hogwarts."

"But he stopped being a Death Eater and started working for you?"

"Yes, he did."

"When?"

"He'd been with the Death Eaters for about three years when he came to me."

"Why did he come to you?"

Dumbledore paused, then let out a heavy breath. "To try to save the life of the person he loved the very most."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. What was that about? She couldn't be entirely sure, but she was fairly certain that she was the person her father loved the very most. But she hadn't been born yet, hadn't even been thought of yet, and her mother hadn't been in the picture then either for her father hadn't met Elizabeth Agnew until after the war was done.

"Who was that?" Zoe asked then. "The person he loved the most?"

"I believe that is a question for your father."

"I'm asking you," she said pugnaciously.

For his part, Dumbledore showed an astonishing amount of patience, despite his facial features pinching together in obvious disapproval of her backchat.

"Yes, you did ask me, yet it is not a question I am willing to answer, and that is my right. As I said, it is a question best suited for Severus."

Zoe looked away, annoyed.

"All right. Will you at least tell me if he saved that person?"

Dumbledore's features dropped considerably. "I'm afraid not. In those days, few escaped their fates when Voldemort had marked them for death."

That saddened Zoe in a way she hadn't expected for it meant that her father had experienced the death of someone he loved very much. It was a pain she could only imagine, really, despite having lost her own mother before ever having known her. It must be doubly horrible to have someone you'd known and loved in life be murdered—especially when you'd tried to save them from that fate.

"Okay…so, what made you defend him, er, to the Ministry and to the Board of Governors? I read that. Why would you do that if he had been a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "He showed me the very best of himself. I therefore deemed his behavior warranted a second chance."

"How?"

"Through love, Zoe. Your father's capacity for love is truly remarkable, especially when you consider all he's been through. And he showed me that capacity when he vowed to protect Harry Potter, years and years ago. He was still a very young man then. He conveyed to me a deep penitence for his past actions and choices and an intense drive to right those wrongs. And…he proved himself indispensable to the war effort—he proved himself indispensable to me."

"As a spy?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, as a spy. And an advisor of sorts. He's a clever man, Severus, and wise beyond his years. He has a keen mind for strategy and logic and he rarely allows his emotions to cloud his judgment—until you came along, of course."

Dumbledore smiled warmly at Zoe once again, but she merely nodded her own understanding and looked away, thinking on what had been said so far.

She understood now how Dumbledore and her father were linked and a little bit about what their relationship had been. She understood why her father had turned away from being a Death Eater, though she wasn't going to get the specifics of that from the portrait of the old wizard, obviously. She remembered that the forward Mr. Potter had given her had made mention of 'great sacrifices' and 'protecting the memory of a dear friend' when making reference to her father's role in the war. Was that dear friend also the person her father had loved? It seemed plausible, but Zoe doubted Dumbledore would even so much as hint at that being true.

She understood now that her father had protected Mr. Potter when he was a student at Hogwarts and she concluded that, by that time, her father and Dumbledore were thoroughly entrenched as allies and mutual advisors. So, it wasn't too much of a stretch to see that, although her father cared little for Harry Potter, that he'd protect him for the greater good—the prophecy of The Chosen One she'd read about—or even just on Dumbledore's orders. There still seemed to be something missing, though…

She added it to the mental list of items to address with him when that time came—because she knew they'd have to have a conversation about all this eventually.

It was then that her mind strayed to what she'd discovered a few days previous and her conversation with Mr. Potter. Her features sobered considerably as she looked back to Dumbledore. He was watching her curiously, awaiting her next question. Before she could speak, fat tears started to well in her eyes.

"But he's a still a murderer," she said eventually, softly.

Dumbledore sat a little straighter in his painted, high-backed chair, then leaned to one side, resting his chin in his palm. Several moments passed and only the ticking of the grandfather clock on the other end of the office and the sound of Zoe's sniffles could be heard.

"I will assume you are referring to the events of the Astronomy Tower the night the Death Eaters infiltrated the school?" Dumbledore asked.

Zoe nodded solemnly. Dumbledore gave his own solid nod of understanding.

"I ask you this, if an old man is suffering from old age and grave injury and asks his most trusted friend to end his misery when the time is right, does that make his friend a murderer?"

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Er…I— I don't know… I—"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I'm sorry, my dear. That is not a question posed to many eleven-year-olds and, frankly, it isn't a question I feel comfortable asking you to answer definitively at this time. However, know this: I _asked_ your father to end my suffering months before that night on the Tower and he agreed, despite being quite profusely disgusted by the very notion. But death is a very normal and inevitable outcome of life and that was my time to experience it. I would not have invoked your father's help had it not been absolutely necessary and I'm certain he knows this. He did not enjoy his role in my death, I'm certain of it, and I'm sure he has had more than one internal thought of repulsion for himself every day since that night. But I am grateful to Severus for that sacrifice."

As Dumbledore had spoken, Zoe had been a jumble of emotions. Her father had killed Dumbledore, but Dumbledore had asked him to do it? She didn't think she could ever make that decision. She'd never do it. There had to be something more to it.

"But you might still be alive if he hadn't done it," she voiced then.

Dumbledore merely shook his head. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be. I had suffered a severe curse at the hands of Voldemort and would not have lived to see the next school term. Had your father not done what he did, at the time that he did it, your adversary, the young Mr. Malfoy would likely not have been born to make your brunches and Christmas balls so intolerable. Your father may have ended one life that night—that is not in dispute—but the lives he _saved_ that night are incalculable, including the life of Draco Malfoy."

Zoe felt her jaw drop and she was quiet for quite sometime, soaking all that in, as tears streamed down her face. Eventually, she posed the same question to Dumbledore as she had posed to Mr. Potter.

"Do you think he's good?"

Dumbledore didn't miss a beat in his reply.

"Oh yes. He may be a difficult, complex man, but he's one of the best wizards I ever knew. And… he is a far better man than I ever was." Dumbledore leveled Zoe with a very serious look. "Do not listen to his detractors, Zoe. Your father is no more a Dark wizard than I. And he is no coward."

Zoe nodded again. She took a deep breath but, for some reason, her emotions wouldn't abate just yet.

"Why didn't he just tell me?" she asked quietly, her voice wavering slightly.

She heard a sigh from Dumbledore above her, but she didn't look up. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffled.

"I'm afraid your father made much the same mistake with you that I made with Harry all those years ago," the old wizard stated. "He cares for you deeply, Zoe; he loves you more than life itself. He didn't want to put such a heavy burden onto the shoulders of someone so young. You are an innocent and that is something he wished to protect—still wishes to protect, I'm sure."

"But I could handle it," Zoe countered, looking up to the portrait once more. "I can be strong like him."

"Perhaps he did not wish for you to _have_ to handle it? Strength through adversity is certainly a noble endeavor, but I imagine it is very hard—heartbreaking—for a parent to watch their child suffer that adversity."

Zoe stared at Dumbledore for several seconds but eventually looked down into her lap. That was exactly what her father had told her at Budhmor Firth after the attack on Spinner's End, that he didn't want her to have to be strong, to have to face the horrors that he had faced. She didn't know how she felt about that.

Later that night, Zoe lay awake, unable to get her brain to turn off. She'd already tried Occlumency, tried making her mind blank, but it hadn't worked. She knew that, deep down, she hadn't wanted to Occlude, she'd wanted to think about everything she'd discovered over the last few weeks and reflect on her conversation with Portrait Professor Dumbledore that afternoon. The fact that she was doing all this reflecting very late at night was merely coincidental and unfortunate. Luckily, tomorrow was Sunday and she only had one small bit of reading to finish up for class on Monday.

She thought back on Mr. Potter's question to her about whether she'd ever had any indication that her father was Dark. And, truly, when she thought back on her childhood so far, she never really had. Despite his sternness and proclivity for caustic wit, despite his critical nature, her impression of her father had been the exact opposite of Dark, really.

Like when she'd been ill with elven influenza last term, he'd been there every day, reading to her, making sure she took her potions, keeping her comfortable, even allowing her friends to enter his private space so that Zoe wouldn't feel so isolated and alone.

He'd taught her to brew potions too, how to identify and cultivate magical plants and their various properties… Her whole life he'd encouraged her inquisitiveness and hadn't been too strict with how she used her free time. For as long as she could remember, there wasn't a single book she'd ever wanted for—he'd always given in to her requests for anything educational as well as many things that weren't that educational. And he'd bought her a broom a whole year before she was technically allowed to have one at school.

"_People change, Zoe," _Mr. Potter's voice stated in the recesses of her mind.

And the more Zoe thought about all of it, the guiltier she felt.

Her father wasn't Dark. He wasn't Dark at all.

What had she been doing?

Hours passed and soon the first rays of sun started to permeate the greenish lake water on the other side of the porthole in her dormitory room. She'd been awake all night and, though she was tired, she knew there was still little chance of sleep, especially now that the day was upon her.

Zoe sat up in her bed and looked to the lump under the duvet on the opposite side of the room. Lottie would worry if she awoke to find her roommate gone from bed. Therefore, after Zoe had rose and dressed, she tore off a small portion of parchment and scribbled a note, which she left under Lottie's wand on the table beside the bed. Then, quietly, she exited the dormitory.

Slowly, she navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons, determined, but not necessarily in a hurry to make it to her destination.

Her father always brewed on Sundays, even now that his primary job was teaching. Therefore, Zoe knew precisely where he would be, despite it being just after six in the morning.

When she arrived in front of his personal potions laboratory and saw the brass placard with his name inscribed upon it, a fleeting notion to slip through the tapestry beside the door and make her way up to the Entrance Hall instead very nearly overwhelmed her.

But, no, she had to face this.

Tentatively, she raised her fist up to knock and then immediately lowered it, thinking better on it. After several moments of quick, tormented contemplation, she placed her hand on the handle and turned it, rather surprised, but nonetheless relieved, that it was unlocked.

She quickly slipped into the laboratory and closed the door behind her.

Once inside, she quickly scanned the room, observing the chill of the air, noticing that the chairs her father had conjured before Christmas were still sitting before the fire, and recognizing almost instantly that her father was about to brew a rather large batch of coughing solution, based on the cauldron and ingredients meticulously laid out on the workbench across from her.

When her father came out from the corridor that led to his storeroom, Zoe straightened her posture, readying herself for him to ask why she was there. When he merely stared at her, his expression guarded, Zoe looked away from his gaze.

"I… er…"

She fidgeted where she stood. This was harder than she had thought it was going to be.

Closing her eyes, she took several deep, slow breaths to calm her nerves. Then she opened her eyes and met her father's gaze.

"I'm ready to communicate with you now," she said succinctly.

Her father's brow was wrinkled. At first he didn't speak, merely walked toward the workbench and placed upon it the jar of dried nettles he'd clearly gone to seek in the storeroom. He looked back to Zoe.

"Very well," he said before pulling his wand from his robes and pointing it to the fire, bringing up the flames and almost instantly warming to cold room.


End file.
